


The Letter in Question

by LoreKeeper427



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Language, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Nightmares, No Smut, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rite of Tranquility, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 54,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoreKeeper427/pseuds/LoreKeeper427
Summary: Lastly, a matter of a personal nature, tell the Commander that we’re through. I’ve read between the lines and seen the truth.Forgive me,Evelyn Trevelyan.Please note: There are many possible triggers in this fic. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary. Chapters are indicated with a warning beforehand if content could be sensitive to readers. This is an angsty fic for various reasons. Take care of yourself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by CuriousThimble without whom this never would have been posted nor possible. Her insights have been invaluable.
> 
> I try to stick as close to canon characters and events//elements as much as possible while maintaining the story concept but this is a 'what if' circumstance. Its still in Thedas, it adds these events before/as/during the Inquisition's march on the Arbor Wilds. 
> 
> Tags do not lie.
> 
> Of course, Dragon Age and the characters are owned by Bioware.

The evening drew to a close and Cullen ran his hands through his already disheveled hair. Not even a small break was afforded today as he worked through the high priority issues that pulled his attention from everything —including Evelyn. _This war won't last forever._ The words provided comfort despite his current stress. There would be an end to Corypheus; the workload would become more manageable. In essence, these long nights paved the way for his future. There were plans, big ones. The kind that meant he had already secured a ring and would find a place to call home. He simply needed to figure out _how_ to ask her. As long as they were together, it hardly mattered where.

Cullen ignored thoughts of the Orlesian army marching towards the Arbor wilds, concerns about the soldier's preparedness, and the plausibility regarding stopping a Darkspawn Magister from the dawn of time. Their shared bed called to him, everything else could wait.

Shucking his armor, Cullen took great care not to disturb her, even leaving the candles unlit. It was obvious when Evelyn came through his office earlier that her day had been no better than his. Perhaps she could have maintained the façade to anyone else, but he knew every curve of her face, every subtle movement, and had taken the time to memorize her delicate features. He could read the things she didn't or couldn't say in what Josephine would call _polite_ company.

_Cullen glanced at his crowded office during debriefing. He hated confinement since Kinloch and debated relocation, but attendees were present and he avoided the hassle. An unfamiliar, overzealous new templar, whom Cullen didn't recognize, asked incessant questions. Though anyone willing to fight against Corypheus was appreciated, and he didn't have the luxury of being picky. Frankly, at this point, if they could pick up the blade by the correct end, and could heed an order, they could aid._

_"_ _Understand the Inquisition needs to impede the advance of Samson and Corypheus. You possess sanction to use any means necessary to ensure it. I expect a detailed account post-mission immediately. Am I clear?" He shot the new templar a pointed look of unspoken confirmation._

 _"_ _Yes, Ser!" the men announced._

 _"_ _Dismissed!" Cullen waved them out, catching a glance of Evelyn in silent observation. The crease in her brow coupled with the way she hunched alluded to a challenging day and though he longed to comfort her, these missives wouldn't wait. Instead, he offered a smile, a quick kiss, then scoured the paperwork in need of attention. "I'll find you later, love." She nodded, and the door latched behind her._

Stripped to his smallclothes, he laid on the bed, noting the absence of the sweet lavender and honey he'd become accustomed to, lulling him to sleep.

The bed was empty.

_She must have had another nightmare._

Cullen rolled over to glance at the floor. If she fell off the bed, it was a more violent occurrence. Not that it would have disturbed her, she is a sound sleeper, so Cullen wasn't alarmed. It certainly had not been the first time these things happened. They'd both experienced their share of trauma and like so many other battles, nightmares were fought side by side.

When the carpet was bare, Cullen checked the balcony. He pulled at the door handles, locked from the inside. A tinge of guilt caught him as he stifled a chuckle.

_Did she lock herself out?_

He found that the balconies too were empty and rubbed the stubble on his face, contemplating where she would be at 0200 hours.

Moonlight seeped through the window illuminating an envelope on the desk stamped with the Inquisitor's wax seal, and no addressee. He tore it open hastily, withdrawing the parchment.

_Inquisition,_

_Please accept this letter as my formal resignation. I_

_will send for my personal items once I am settled. I am certain that the_

_Spymaster will help to locate me, so i'll inform you of my destination. It is challenging to ensure_

_reasoning is accurately captured in a mere_

_letter, however it is by my own volition, that I_

_return to ostwick. With the Templars_

_gone and no longer needing the Inquisition to protect me from_

_those confident of my guilt, the time has come to say goodbye. As thanks for my efforts,_

_please refrain from branding me one of many traitors._

_Lastly, a matter of a personal nature, tell the Commander that we're through. I've read between the lines and seen the truth._

_Forgive me,_

_Evelyn Trevelyan._

Cullen clutched the parchment to his chest and recalled a memory from a few nights ago.

_The wind stung his cheeks as he embraced her but he paid it no mind. Cullen ran his fingers through her raven hair, the soft texture in great contrast to his calloused skin. The location of their first kiss was her favorite spot on the battlements and taking a peaceful stroll through Skyhold without the incessant parade of soldiers, scouts, or in particular —Jim, interrupting was a rarity._

_It didn't get more perfect than this._

_"_ _Cullen?" her voice caught his attention and pulled him from his thoughts._

 _"_ _Mmm?"_

_Evelyn's blue eyes met his as she ruffled the fur of his mantle. "I love you, you know that, right?"_

_"_ _I love you, too."_

 _Cullen pressed against her lips, feeling her warmth as she threw her arms around his neck_.

He re-read the resignation letter, brows wrinkling.

_Everything was fine._

He shook his head. The most intriguing area of concern was how she addressed him. They relished any moment where they got to be Evie and Cullen instead of the Commander and the Inquisitor. When their relationship started, they separated their professional and personal lives and though it was difficult, they maintained the precedent. They talked about work, certainly, but titles were used instead of names unless they were off duty or in private, barring a few exceptions.

_Why compose a sentence that is personal only to use my title? As a resignation letter, it is by definition, professional. Was Evie breaking ties in both aspects purposefully? Was she hinting that something is wrong since the two do not mix?_

The bureau contained the breeches and cotton shirt he threw on before stuffing his sockless feet into his boots and rushing out. He avoided every other step and plunged through the door to the main hall. He crossed the nearly empty room —save for a few of his soldiers to whom he nodded curtly. Cullen disregarded the looks of confusion plastered on their features from what he assumed was due to his lack of armor. He took a moment to thank the Maker that the nobles had the good sense to be sleeping at this hour instead of indulging in gossip. Things would only get worse if enemies of the Inquisition found out that the Inquisitor was…

_What was the Inquisitor exactly?_

Through the rotunda and up two flights of stairs to the rookery was where he found Leliana. The Spymaster, unlike himself, was dressed in her normal armor and seemed wide awake despite the late hour. She petted a raven's feathers and secured a message around its foot with ribbon, then sent the bird through the arrow slit.

Cullen shoved the parchment in Leliana's direction. "The Inquisitor—"

_Was missing? Gone? Quit? Left you and the Inquisition behind?_

He pushed those thoughts away, he could not think about that, not now, not until there was something, _anything_ to know for sure.

Leliana grabbed the parchment from him and scoured the page, quirking her eyebrow. "It is written in her hand…"

 _That was the first thing I checked Leliana, give me some credit._ "I'm aware." Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger, trying to dull the anxiety induced headache before it worsened.

Leliana held the letter over the flame of a candle "Where did you find this?"

"Our quarters, on her desk. Somehow, I'm certain it's a fake." Cullen did not understand what the Spymaster searched for, but her actions were risky. Sheer willpower kept him from snatching the letter back out of her hands before it accidentally burned and any clues they had would be lost. "Evie would never do this!"

"Leave the Inquisition, or leave you?" Leliana's face remained stoic and seemingly calm despite the urgency.

"Both? Either?" His voice boomed throughout the open space with ferocity echoed in every syllable as his heart pounded harder and fear set in. Cullen paced and Leliana eyed him, seemingly full of speculation. "It wasn't her."

"I'll summon everyone, we'll convene in the war room in 30 minutes. Perhaps the others can shed light." Leliana glanced at the parchment again before rolling it up. "I suggest you prepare for a long night, Commander."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inner circle is informed of the Inquisitor’s resignation. With more speculation than fact, how do you begin to search for the truth?

The war room was full of a rather cranky inner circle, who found the need to complain and bicker childishly. Some days, it was difficult to believe that these were professionals who had been employed by the Inquisition for months now. Cullen lacked patience for triviality and gave it no further heed. At least he'd had enough time to return to their empty quarters and dress in his armor —though it provided little comfort.

Cullen stood at attention. "The Inquisitor has resigned." The words rang hollow even to himself though he was careful to avoid putting his emotion behind them. The others needn't see how distressed he was.

The room fell silent for a solid minute before everyone started talking at once.

Cullen stared at Evelyn's comrades, forcing himself to swallow the lump which formed in his throat. _Was it good she had told no one she planned on leaving, or bad that everyone seemed equally shocked by the news?_ He didn't know which of the two he preferred-which was less disconcerting.

"Unbelievable." Dorian tapped his staff against the stone floor, getting the attention of the room. "She would never quit. That's preposterous!" He exclaimed. "We need her. _I need her!_ "

_You aren't the only one._

"Maybe that was the problem?" Cassandra crossed her arms. "We tend to… take advantage, on occasion."

"You might." Varric placed his hands firmly on the war table. "Some of us appreciate all the things she does for, oh… _everyone._ "

"This is what we have." Leliana set down the letter of resignation and the entire inner circle hovered around as she read it aloud.

Dorian shook his head. "It doesn't sound like our Ev." His face and brows contorted.

"But it's her penmanship." Josephine appeared out of sorts without her clipboard but compensated for its absence by talking with her hands.

"Yes," Cullen hissed through clenched teeth. "-We know that much." After the number of missives and letters they reviewed on a daily basis, identifying her writing wasn't difficult. He rested his hands on the pommel of his sword and sighed wearily. He pondered if he should have foreseen this, seen _something_ to show her unhappiness.

_Though maybe it had been there all along. They always needed Evie for something. Asked for favors, dealt with the constant travel, fighting for people who would never thank her. She was also always a target._

"Well, shit." Varric wiped the sweat from his forehead. "It's Princess, but it isn't."

"What does that mean, Varric?" Cassandra enunciated his name with a ring of distaste.

"It means I write crime novels, and I know when a note smells funny."

"That's what I said." Dorian grabbed the parchment to more closely inspect it. "Perhaps you should listen to the Vint more often. I am known for my brilliant powers of deduction."

"No you're not, Sparkler."

"Mmm, what makes you think there's something wrong about it?" Blackwall tugged at his beard.

"She addressed me as _Commander_." Cullen pointed to his title on the letter. "Why would she do that?"

"You _are_ the Commander…" Cassandra said.

"Not in personal matters. Ending our relationship is not duty related."

"To ensure you saw the disconnect?" Leliana cocked her head to the side. "Or create an illusion."

"Utter shite," Sera added, prompting odd looks from those in attendance. She shrugged, then rolled her eyes. "Loves work as the Quizzie yeah, fightin' big baddies who don't know their arses from holes in the ground but feels for Cully more. Because priorities."

"What she's trying to say is that Princess has been in love with Curly since Haven," Varric said, eliciting a blush from Cullen. "Even _if_ she would quit a job she also loves —which I just don't buy— but for argument's sake, _if she were to quit,_ she wouldn't up and leave Curly."

_Really? Since Haven?_

"Aye. That." Sera nodded. "So poof, Quizzie disappears, right, but it ain't because she's quittin' or breakin' Cully Wully's heart. Feels and stuff."

_Maker, I hate that nickname. It's worse than Curly._

"You believe she was taken." Solas leaned on his staff in the corner of the room. The elf seemed worried at the news, his eyes fixated on the war table and the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown.

Varric posed the question on everyone's mind. "Corypehus?"

"Doubtful," Cassandra shook her head, "I suspect he would attack out in the open, as he did in Haven."

Bull, silently examining the letter until now, rapped his finger on the parchment as though he was trying to force any unknown information to spring off the page "The format is unusual. The Boss might have encoded it. There's not much to go off of, but if you like I can see what the Chargers and I might be able to decipher."

"My scouts made copies for each of you. Perhaps we can see what, if anything, may be hiding in plain sight, no?" Leliana met Cullen's gaze as the corners of her eyes crinkled. "I reviewed it under a flame and couldn't indicate the presence of any oils varying in size on the parchment. They're all consistent."

_So that's what she was doing._

"Don't speak in riddles, Nightingale." Varric rolled the muscles in his neck. "Not everyone can keep up."

"If anyone else touched the letter, they would have left an oily residue from their skin, unless they were wearing gloves, holding it up to a flame could show what the naked eye cannot see. Despite this, every imprint appeared to be consistent." Leliana used a nearby candle to prove her point on the original copy. "Well, other than Cullen's when he found it."

"Perhaps she just needed a bit to cool off, wrote the letter in haste thinking no one would actually see it. Did you and Princess get into a dispute Curly? It could account for the unnatural tone. Not professional, but emotional."

"Don't be preposterous, darling. A successful woman would never sideline her goals and quit simply because of a lover. A foolish assumption, indeed. She may have reasons if it is true, but it would not be that." Vivienne's announcement didn't subdue Cullen's growing anxiety. Even the façade she often portrayed didn't hide her concern as her lips pressed into a hard line.

"Vivienne, how glorious it must be to spurn the actions of others. Tell me, my dear, with your nose so high in the air, would you drown were it to rain?" Dorian ran his fingers through his hair. "Just because nobody could ever love you, doesn't give you the right to be green. It's really _not_ your color."

"Enough!" Cullen held up his hand and cleared his throat. "This is getting us nowhere and you're missing the point."

Vivienne ignored the jab from Dorian, dismissing it with a wave. "The point is, dear, that if she finds happiness elsewhere, let her move on. This is hardly proof of anything. Meanwhile, we cannot leave the Inquisition without leadership."

Cullen gritted his teeth at Madame De Fer's blatant disregard for his feelings. "When was the last time any of you had contact with her?"

"I saw Princess earlier, but I was in the middle of my latest chapter and asked that she give me a bit. That was this morning." Varric scraped his chin with his fingers.

Dorian spoke next. "We chatted in the library. It's our daily routine. We mostly discussed my favorite topic."

"Which was?" Blackwall inquired.

"Myself, of course." Dorian feigned shock as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Blackwall snorted. "Of course."

"I requested she stop by another time, but that was this afternoon. I was painting, and she said it wasn't urgent, then she headed to the Commander's office." Solas explained.

"I hardly saw her. I delegated orders to the men and the Inquisitor left. We ugh… kissed." Cullen massaged the knot in his neck as his cheeks burned. _Maker's breath, was that necessary to say? It could be. But if her intention was to leave, why kiss me?_ They preferred their private affairs remain that way, but perhaps it was best to tell them, if only to prove everything was normal. _Who are you trying to convince: them, or yourself?_

Bull scratched his chest. "She asked me if I wanted the stick today. I think she was having a rough one and needed an outlet. I declined because I was busy with reports myself. I offered to buy the first round later, and she nodded and left."

"With the number of soldiers headed to the Arbor Wilds, the stables have been a popular destination. Though, I can confirm that Midnight was neither saddled nor taken out other than routinely during the day." Blackwall raked his fingers through his beard.

"The last I knew, she was headed to train. It's probably why she was in your office." Cassandra motioned to Cullen. "Well, one reason. Ev— the Inquisitor needed a sparring partner, but I was caught in an argument with Mother Giselle over this Divine nonsense."

"Not one of her friends could be bothered to make time for her today." Varric looked around the room at the others in attendance and then sighed. "Maybe she _did quit_. Any thoughts Kid?"

"The pain is louder than the song. Heart twisting. Knots upon knots in an uneasy stomach. Maker, did she leave me?" Cole didn't avert his gaze from the war table markers.

Cullen sighed and lowered his head at the voice of his own thoughts. They likely knew already, but it was another for his fears to be confirmed and spoken aloud, in public for that matter. It made them more realistic, somehow. _So much for not showing distress._ "Dorian, Varric, Cole, you're with me. Leliana, work with Bull and the Chargers to see what can be discovered regarding the letter. Cassandra, if she was going to spar, interrogate the men. If any of them saw her, I want to know when, where, and what she was doing. Sera, find a good position on the battlements and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Should you find anything or anyone at this hour, I want them apprehended, the men on duty can assist. Solas, see if you can reach her in the Fade, perhaps wherever she is, she's asleep. Ambassador, keep this information contained as much as possible. It will only create more problems than solutions were this information to be leaked. Blackwall you and Vivienne search Skyhold and see if you can find anything else unusual. Report back at 0600 with any information. I don't care how seemingly insignificant. Rylen can act as Commander in the interim due to my personal interests in this matter. I… —I am too close to this and an unbiased perspective can only assist. I don't care if we have to raze Thedas to do it, I _want_ her found!"

_What if she doesn't want to be found?_

_If located, would she confirm the contents of the letter?_

_Did she leave me?_

_What does it mean for me if she did?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you found the companions to be in character. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Search efforts are underway, but with limited clues and a lack of leads, the Commander finds himself at a loss.

The search started with the stables. Rows after rows of mounts were organized separated by species. Various whines, neighs, and screeches filled his ears while Cullen reviewed the logs. Their shrieks added to his anxiety induced headache. Surely, there would be something, _anything_ to indicate that she left. Midnight, Evelyn's horse, was present. Choosing to leave without a mount in the middle of the Frostbacks was impractical, at best. Evelyn would know what it was to be stuck in the mountains alone in the snow, there was no logical reason to depart without one. None were missing that hadn't been assigned to the troops destined for the wilds, a fact which Cullen confirmed with Horsemaster Dennet. 

_Wherever she went, she hadn't ridden out of Skyhold._

If she had been taken, she had been walked out of the keep —which made things worse. The lack of speed which one would travel on foot would cause Inquisition personnel to catch up with her and supported the theory of abduction. According to the watch, they'd seen nothing unusual other than the contingent of fully armored templars leaving as he had instructed in the earlier briefing. After the stables yielded no results, Cullen and his party searched the perimeter of Skyhold.

Cullen wondered if perhaps the feelings weren't mutual. He would have sworn his affection was reciprocated; he would have bet a lifetime salary on it just yesterday, or even earlier that morning. Now, he was questioning _everything_. What began as a ripple in Cullen's heart grew into greater rings of fear, radiating through him after each possibility yielded nothing. There was no indication of her or recent activities. The group found multiple footprints in the snow that branched off in various directions, but that too was expected.

The more Cullen's efforts proved fruitless, the deeper he dived into the darkness his mind conjured. If he had forgone his work, delayed it for a mere day, maybe she wouldn't have left and taken his heart with her. Maybe a relationship had always been too much to ask.

Cullen's experience told him he could no longer maintain professional decorum and be objective, but even if he wasn't acting as commander of this endeavor, he could not allow himself to sit idle. Not while she could be out there, hurt or in trouble and waiting for him to rescue her. But was she waiting or had she left of her own volition? He needed to know for certain, to allow himself true closure regardless of her choice, though he was terrified what it may mean.

_I will find out what happened._

_I will protect her as I swore to._

_I will bring her back to our home and never let her out of my sight._

_I will defend her until my last breath._

_I will never darken her doorstep again if that's what she wants._

_It would kill me, but I will do as she asks._

_Either way, Maker show mercy on those who dare stand in the way, for I will not._

They scoured the immediate area, speaking briefly with various templar groups or soldiers camped at the base of Skyhold. Cullen coordinated the efforts with Leliana's best scouts as he sent them to cover the terrain in every direction with the agreement that they return to him and report the moment any information was obtained. Meanwhile, he and the party hiked through the mountains, searching for caverns where she may have laid her head, clues, or other indicators. The reports became a recurring nightmare and the lack of results in his own efforts discouraged him. Every scout and those they inquired with maintained not seeing anyone by the Inquisitor's description come or go during any hour, day or night.

Cullen's heart was lodged in his throat and his stomach churned. The pounding within his head hammered between his eyes. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword while he waited for the tremor to subside. He yearned for the cool blue liquid to pass his lips that could solve the physical impairments. It would make him more effective, allow him to pick up on a trail, something, _anything_ that his lyrium-addled mind and sleeplessness caused him to overlook. His brain was fogged with their memories, each one adding more haze to a complicated situation.

_Cullen squirmed at the frozen snow that ran down his back inside his cuirass and melted between his skin and shirt. If she wasn't so skilled at the art of persuasion, perhaps he could have kept his mantle and avoided the following assault altogether. What was more impressive: the fact that she managed to verbally wrangle it away from him or the precise hit by the snowball that led to this predicament._

_Evelyn giggled, and her laughter resounded through the Frostbacks. She stood at attention, using a deepened voice to mimic him. "You're to block, not catch! If that snowball were your enemy, you'd be dead!"_

_Once he regained his composure, he dusted off the excess snowy fluff and feigned seriousness. "I refuse to partake in this frivolity. I am not a child."_

_Evelyn gaped. "A child?" Her tone carried a playful ring as she raised both eyebrows. She bent down and scooped more snow into a ball._

_"Indeed." Cullen marched towards her and provided his best stern look. "As you well know, I prefer a strategic, frontal approach..."_

_By the time Evie turned her attention back to him, Cullen closed the distance. With a calculated gesture and careful hand placement, he tackled her to the ground. He shifted before landing to support his weight and ensured he didn't cause her any harm._

_The impact caused a flurry of snow to disperse into the air speckling her black locks like stars in the night. She huffed and lightly punched his plate. "You…" She pointed her index finger at him. "You do not fight fairly."_

_The sight mesmerized Cullen. From the sapphire blue of her eyes to the indentations of each battle scar and everything in between, Evie bewitched him. "Were my intentions for a fair fight, that would indeed be a concern. Warn me in advance if I am to prepare for frozen water assaults, I will have the trebuchets calibrated." Laughter escaped their lips, muffled by a barrage of kisses._

_"You are impossible," Evelyn announced breathlessly._

_"And you're insufferable." Cullen nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "Evie... do you ever wonder what would have happened if you had not been at the conclave? If you'd never become the Inquisitor?"_

_"A life without you?" Evelyn shook her head and her brow furrowed. "Never."_

Desperation permitted him to ignore the cold sting of wind against his cheeks as he shook.

_What changed?_

"Maker's breath!" Cullen cursed, frustrated at the thoughts waging war between what he knew to be real, his speculation, and his memories. The yell elicited a few reassuring comments from his team.

As minutes turned into hours, the group had little choice but to return to the war room. They spoke prayers to the Maker hoping Evelyn would be found, unharmed, though the nagging thought remained relentless —the longer it took to locate her, the less likely someone would find her alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clues begin to trickle in, but the group remains vigilant and the clock is ticking. When Cullen figures out the culprit, he struggles with what it means as his hands are tied.

Cullen placed both hands on the war table to steady himself. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as his head swam. Every second flew by, feeling like another hour passed as they huddled in the war room to reconvene in their race against a clock. Too fast for comfort and too slow for progress. When he saw two of Dorian, he shut his eyes and rubbed them. After hearing the door close a second time, he opened them, focusing in on Blackwall, his vision was no longer blurred. "Report."

"Per the inventory, a Templar uniform is missing." Blackwall handed the list to Cullen.

He inspected the log. "When did they _say_ inventory was last taken?"

_14:00?_

"I interrogated the recruits on duty. Thomas signed off at 14:00, documenting full inventory, and his partner provided separate verbal confirmation." Blackwall clasped his hands in front of him.

_Good, as expected. Speaking of interrogations…_

As though reading his mind, Cassandra stepped forward to report. "The men present are still being questioned. However, it appears those who had any knowledge seem to be among those deployed to the Arbor Wilds."

"Any luck in the Fade?" Dorian asked Solas.

_Tell me you've seen her._

"She lives, dreams," Solas paused. "—for now."

Cullen's gut clenched with anxiety. _Do you expect that to change?_

"That's good!" Varric exclaimed, his tone cheerful in spite of the worry deepening the lines in his face. "That _is_ good, _right_?"

"She spoke to me, though it was mostly incoherent." Solas shook his head. "Her exact words: _Up is down and dark is light. Whose is it? Mine! No, not mine. So Cold. A sword in flames_."

 _Sword in flames? Red Templars?_ Cullen pressed his index finger to his lips. _It's speculation. Better to be certain before expending all remaining resources and manpower on a theory._

"Did you see anything else in there, Chuckles? Oh, I don't know, some clue to a location, perhaps?"

"What would you have me say? It is the Fade, it was green. There was nothing distinguishable. Given her drastic change of character and the nonsensical response, I speculate she is under the effects of a potion that impairs cognitive function," Solas explained dryly. "It explains the lack of detail in the dream as well."

"We deciphered the letter." Leliana held a copy of the parchment for all to see the bolded words. "If you look at the sentences, she starts every one as a new line instead of continuing. We compared it against other reports and none are similar. The Inquisitor formatted it this way on purpose and she left us a message."

Cullen leaned closer to study the vellum and fought the urge to rip the letter out of Leliana's hands for a better look.

Inquisition,

 **Please** accept this letter as my formal resignation. I

will **send** for my personal items once I am settled. I am certain that the

Spymaster will **help** to locate me, so i'll inform you of my destination. It is challenging to ensure

reasoning is accurately **captured** in a mere

letter, however it is **by** my own volition, that I

return to Ostwick. With the **Templars**

gone and no longer needing the **Inquisition** to protect me from

those confident of my guilt, the time **has** come to return to Ostwick. As thanks for my efforts,

please refrain from branding me one of many **traitors**.

Lastly, a matter of a personal nature, tell the Commander that we're through. I've read between the lines and seen the truth.

Forgive me,  
Evelyn Trevelyan.

"Please send help. Captured by Templars. Inquisition has traitors!" Dorian clapped. "Oh! She is clever."

"There was a reason she wanted the words in that particular order. Once we figured out the method, which was to encode the message in every numerically sequential word, we were able to read between the lines as instructed." Leliana explained, a smug look plastered on her features.

 _It WAS deliberate. Evie knew I would question it. Clever, indeed._ Cullen chuckled nervously as he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd held. He should have known better than to speculate —even for a moment— her loyalty to both their relationship and the Inquisition's cause. A pit formed in his stomach. He dragged his hand slowly from his forehead to his chin grazing the stubble he hadn't shaved.

_The uniform. Inquisition has traitors._

_Maker, it's not RED templars!_

Cullen insisted that they be brought in, _welcomed_ in Skyhold among their few mages. How ironic that while he kept close watch, his concern should have fallen to the templars. Those of _his_ former order, of _his_ army who decided to put the life of the woman he loved in danger.

He slammed his fist against the war table with such force, it lifted the markers off the table, and elicited gasps from those in attendance he had forgotten were there. Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead and he tugged at his armor which now suffocated him.

_I trained these men._

_I taught them the skills necessary to use against others._

_I acted as both mentor and guide to those responsible for Evelyn's capture._

_I am a fool and Evelyn is in danger_.

"Prepare to depart at 0700, _no exceptions_." Cullen knew they were sleep deprived, hungry, worried, and sick to their stomachs. He was too. Every single one of them owed Evelyn their lives, on many occasions, and he wasn't above using it for leverage as necessary. Though, in all fairness, there were families who weren't as close as the inner circle, he doubted he'd need to issue orders on the matter.

_Evie was taken approximately 12 hours ago. That's time we wasted that we cannot recover._

He would _not_ allow himself to think of what could happen if he didn't find her.

"You cannot leave." Cassandra and Leliana stood blocking the door to the Inquisitor's quarters. The moonlight streaming from the window poorly illuminated the stairwell. Within the darkness, the presence of both women appeared less comforting and more closely resembled an ambush in the lack of light. "You have no trail to follow. No direction. She could be _anywhere_."

"And staying changes nothing." Cullen ran his fingers through his hair.

"You need sleep, Commander." Leliana placed a hand against his bracer.

"What _I_ _need_ is to find her." Cullen clenched his fists and his knuckles turned white. "You'd rather wait? For what!? Why sit idle when we can do _something_ now?!"

"And how exactly do you intend to find her? Where will you start looking? Irrationality and guilt over the templars will not aid you. Commander," Cassandra sighed. "You are but one of many who love her. Were there any lead to follow, a direction, or sound course of action to take, I would be right beside you, leading this charge." She pointed toward the bed. "Sleep.

 _Was that an order?_ His shoulders slumped when he couldn't argue her logic. "Fine," he said in resignation. "Have a trusted contingent of soldiers and templars sent out to search. I am to be informed immediately should there be _any_ news."

"Templars?" Cassandra quirked an eyebrow. "Is that wise?"

Cullen was acutely aware of Cassandra's point. But he _had_ to believe that there were still good men and women formerly of the Order. Those who were reliable, who would use discretion and heed orders without question. It was necessary to cling to hope. Not all of them could be responsible for Evie's disappearance; the loyalty of those under his service was all Cullen had at this moment. "I said, _trusted._ " Cullen opened the door for both women to exit. "It's a Templar problem, send Templars to rectify it. Instruct Rylen to assign those from Kirkwall and Starkhaven. He'll know the best suited. She deserves no less."

"Evelyn said the Inquisition was compromised!" Cassandra declared in disbelief. "I disagree with this course of action."

"It isn't your decision." Cullen retorted coldly, placing his hand up to cease further discussion.

"Well, it shouldn't be yours either." Cassandra scoffed, ignoring him. "That was of your own volition. _You_ said you were too close to this and you were correct in that assessment."

"Either formulate a better plan or step aside." Cullen challenged and closed the door without waiting for a response.

Nobody loved Evelyn like he. How could they possibly understand? They may think of her as a sister, a friend, a mother —in instances such as Cole— but to love her on the same level in which he did? No, they certainly did not. _Could not._ Which also meant that they wouldn't do absolutely anything necessary to save her or go to the same lengths he would dare. Which left Cullen, feeling utterly alone in his efforts. He would need to monitor to ensure they didn't miss anything critical. He would have to stand where they fall.

_Her life may depend on it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you expecting that?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turning to prayer, Cullen tries to find a sense of peace as he reflects upon the past and the current predicament.

Cullen folded his hands as he knelt on the balcony reciting passages of the chant. He hoped the Maker would be sympathetic to his plight as he too mourned the loss of his love once. It was a wonder if the Maker even heard Cullen at all and he contemplated if Evelyn's disappearance and his less frequent visits to the Chapel were correlated.

_Are you punishing me?_

Cullen often turned to faith when life offered little but couldn't as of late since his duties hadn't permitted. Not that he ceased prayer entirely, but he didn't do it as often as he used to, nor as much as he should. When it offered him no solace, he removed his boot. Cullen traced the circular indentation in the cuff with his finger where the coin Branson gave him once rested, recalling the day he'd given it to her at the lake.

He hoped the coin gave her all the luck and mercy Andraste would spare. As long as she was breathing, they could heal her: mind, body, and soul, it didn't matter. If she lived, she had a chance.

Evelyn was nothing if not strong. She was an intelligent, capable warrior and an ideal soldier. She bested any competition despite her small frame and Cullen continued to train her himself. Evie emerged victorious as Herald, as Inquisitor, as a woman, and stepped over the ashes of fallen foes to rise above any who opposed her with heated ferocity that rivaled the sun. She toppled armies, Venatori, Wardens, darkspawn, and countless others; it had not always been easy, and each came with their own scars and injuries, but through it all, Cullen had been her biggest supporter.

Even before they were romantically involved, he was her Commander. It was his responsibility to maintain all aspects of defense. He became the person in whom she confided regarding military strategy, statistics, and the brutalities of war. Regardless of the complaints he garnered from the soldiers about his meticulous methods, he was by far, toughest on Evelyn.

Cullen had endured the dangers of magics, unrelenting nightmares and the torment which accompanied every decision. He knew firsthand of the empty pit left after life was taken at one's own hands, and the hard lesson of not being able to save people from themselves. He hoped to impress these upon her to spare her from the brunt of these harsh truths. Cullen's wisdom stemmed from gazing into the eyes of evil, muttering pleas for help and requesting mercy only to have it fall on deaf ears. Though it was not something he often shared, he confided in her for Evelyn's safety as well as his own peace of mind.

Despite every lesson he tried to teach, and words of wisdom incorporated in his lectures; she continued to see the best in people, even to a fault. It was something he adored in her, but loathed at the same time; the desire to break her of it warred with the softer parts of his heart that hoped she never change. It was a risk she continued to take but Cullen assumed it was that trait which allowed her to love him, despite not always seeing him at his best.

_The door thudded shut as he stormed back to his office in a fit of burning rage and need. Evelyn followed thereafter and paid no mind to his disheveled state providing encouragement, an offer of help, and a notification._

_Pain shot from his knuckles to his shoulder as Cullen's fist collided with the bookcase. "I should be taking it…"_

_The voice that came out of his mouth simultaneously sounded foreign and too familiar. He rolled his neck and contained the burst of self-hatred which flourished in his chest at his behavior in front of the Inquisitor, the Herald, his friend._

_Maker. What she must think of me now…_

_Cullen averted his eyes to hide his shame._

_She pinned him in place with a gaze of concern, peering at him though he were completely translucent. He was a window, and she now possessed a full picture of what lie within his soul. All secrets were laid bare, and he shifted his weight, uncomfortable with his sudden vulnerability._

_The silence weighed in the room like a thick fog._

_A gentle touch to his bracer accompanied her words. "You're doing the right thing but whatever you decide, you have my support. Cullen, please let me help."_

_It was the first time that she used his name without the title. It was personal for her, not professional, and Cullen noticed._

Evelyn's visits to his office increased, and she was present the night he lost the contents of his stomach after a particularly tough bought of withdrawal symptoms. She cared for him, forgoing sleep to ensure he made it to morning and overlooked his embarrassment without a second thought. Evie appeared routinely thereafter to check on his wellbeing. She cancelled trips to various areas of Thedas in order to guarantee his health, despite his persistent protests which turned into arguments about how it was unnecessary and hindered the efforts of the Inquisition while the inner circle handled many of their tasks in her stead. After roughly a month of Evie's dedication, Cullen maintained improvement and regained stability. The problem didn't stop there, but it was slightly easier to manage and he owed Evelyn for that.

He remembered how, later that month, they had walked along the battlements together and he had asked if she thought less of him. Her mouth had curved into a soft smile as she shook her head no. Evelyn told him that she cared for him, and his heart had leaped into his throat. It was in that moment when he gazed into beautiful blue eyes that showed only compassion, understanding, and love, that he pledged fealty to her, the same as he'd sworn himself to the Order and the Inquisition. Except these bonds were of love, unbreakable and able to withstand the test of time.

Yet for all his oaths and efforts, he _failed_ to protect her, the one promise he told himself he would always keep.

Cullen undressed, climbed in bed and tried to quiet his riotous thoughts. He opened his eyes and shut them for the thousandth time. Though his lids were heavy and his energy drained, he exhaled a huff of air and then shifted his pillow trying to allow the honey and lavender scent to soothe him, though it only continued the thoughts of her. He rolled from one side of the empty space to the other and adjusted his position numerous times. After hours of restlessness the fade finally called to him and he succumbed to his exhaustion.

_Alone in a stone corridor Cullen's breath quickened in the unfamiliar surroundings. Torches burned, and the firelight flickered from an unknown breeze. He coughed. The stale air scratched at his throat. This place felt wrong._

_I shouldn't be here._

_He tried to gauge the length of the corridor, but fear and uncertainty replaced his logic, and urged his feet forward._

_His hands grasped his sword and shield which provided comfort and reminded him of his duty. A sound echoed around him and steeled his resolve, Cullen inhaled and his grip tightened. A scream cut through him, primal and tortuous. There was no doubting the source: Evelyn._

_Instinct overtook him and he ran, pushing his muscles near the point of straining. Footfalls thudded in rapid succession; sudden silence unsettled him. Cullen's heart pounded in his ears and drowned out his ragged breath. With the door before him, he froze at the thought of what may lie beyond it. He trembled and swallowed the lump._

_He forced himself to reach for the latch. The handle was cold to the touch, it penetrated the leather of his gloves and sent a shiver up his spine. He closed his eyes and spoke a quick prayer to the Maker. Cullen never released the hilt of his sword, ready to strike at anything that came his way and exhaled shakily._

_He gritted his teeth._

_Had she been..._  
Tortured?  
Forced to…  
Maker!

No, he would not allow his mind to give credence to THOSE thoughts.

_Which was worse?_

_He leveraged his weight to open the door which revealed another empty hallway._

_"_ _Cullen, help me! Please!" She screamed. He could hear the raw sobbing of a woman in distress. She called for him, needed him, so he ran, again._

_Cullen pushed himself faster. He had always made sure he was as fit as the rest of his men, but his legs felt leaden and the muscles burned as he gasped for breath. A lungful of dusty, stale air caused him to cough and he nearly tripped over his own feet. The armor he wore every day suddenly felt fifty pounds heavier than normal, slowing him down and leaving him light-headed with exertion. For all his efforts, there was no change in the hallway. He might as well have been running in place. He scolded himself for discontinuing, for not being as strong of a man as Evelyn needed him to be in this moment. Lyrium would have prevented this weakness. A breeze brushed his cheeks and provided reassurance of his movements though the hallway seemed to elongate mocking him in his failure._

_Must keep moving._

_Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the door and barreled through it. Cullen's heart sank at the sight of a another corridor. Her voice begged and pleaded for help, echoing off the walls from all directions and he wanted nothing more in all the Maker's creation to get to her but he can't. The screams gained frequency. Cullen's stomach knotted._

_Was that her last?_

_It never ended. The way was straight, no curves or doors to the side, only miles of stone ahead. She sounded so close, but always out of his reach. Another door caused him to stop._

_"_ _Cullen!"_

_It surged through him, like lightning, leaving him shocked to his core. Her cries were closer than they'd ever been and he knew she was just on the other side. Bracing himself for whatever he might find, he smashed through._

He woke up and gasped for air that his lungs did not seem to want, sweat drenched his hair. The nightmare was still a reality.

_I don't know where she is.  
I can't get to her._

Despite the efforts of the entire Inquisition, it may all be for naught and no matter what he did there was a real possibility he would be too late. He didn't know what was happening to her, and that not knowing, the uncertainty of her safety, was enough to drive him mad.

_What if I cannot save her?_


	6. Chapter 6

Cullen paced the battlements. Evelyn had been missing for 36 hours. Though it was always quiet in her absence, the entire keep exuded a different aura. It was as if the heart and life of the place was gone and everyone was just going through the motions of the day. The tavern was empty, save for those working within, and there was little idle chatter. The hustle and bustle subsided, replaced by looks of concern and fear that reflected his inner feelings and thoughts.

All in all, it felt like a place utterly abandoned.

Discretion was key, but as time passed, including others and appropriate connections became necessary and the news spread. Any soldier, scout, or noble would keep watch, increasing the likelihood of receiving word.

He continued his pacing, her babble to Solas circling in his thoughts. What did it mean? With every step, he replayed her words.

_Up is down and dark is light. Was that because Evelyn was in the Fade?_

_Whose is it? Mine, not mine. Who was she arguing with and over what?_

_What would Templars argue over?_

_Mages or Lyrium._

_Why was she cold? Is that a hint about the weather?_

_A sword in flames. Why tell us about her captors twice? Did she not think we deciphered the letter?_

_Solas said she seemed impaired, maybe none of this means anything at all._

Cullen clenched his fists and steadied his breathing. One way or another, they would move on the Arbor Wilds tomorrow. This plan had been implemented weeks ago, and he'd reallocated troops. The bulk of their force was spread thin, and Evelyn having been taken now was no coincidence. The probability of success dwindled without her.

"Commander!" The scout's voice broke into his thoughts, and Cullen looked up to see the man saluting. "You're needed in the war room, Ser!"

Cullen sprinted, forgetting to formally dismiss the scout. _News, there must be news. But good or bad?_ His heart pounded in his ears, the sound blocking out the greeting of anyone he passed.

On his way, the faces blurred and he burst through the rotunda not realizing Solas slept on the sofa. He breathed a sigh of relief and prayed it meant additional information would follow later. He cut through the eerily silent great hall and avoided the blank stares of the nobles pining for gossip, pushed through the multiple doors between himself and the war room, shuddering before grabbing the handle to enter as his mind flickered back to the stone hallway that plagued his nightmares.

The sound thundered as the door closed behind him. "What have you heard?" Cullen's voice rang with more panic than intended.

Cullen studied Leliana, Josephine, and Rylen, on the opposite side of the table where he usually stood, trying to determine cues in their body language before they spoke.

Leliana handed Cullen a stack of parchment. "The _trusted_ contingent of templars have reported no sign of the Inquisitor, only troop movements and Chantry officials headed towards the Arbor Wilds, as you are aware. We have received three letters of possible sightings from various other sources."

Cullen quirked an eyebrow. "Other sources?"

"I will do what we can to confirm the validity of these reports. However—"

"Take no chances," Cullen and Rylen declared in unison.

Cullen smirked. _There's a reason he is my second._ He grabbed and flipped through the letters, careful to scan each for pertinent information. "Crestwood, Jader, and Lydes?"

Josephine scribbled away on her clipboard. "Indeed. The Inquisition has requested the aid of Duchess Caralina to search Lydes and, after providing our assistance with those bandits, she is all too happy to help."

"We have limited soldiers in Crestwood due to reassignment to the Arbor Wilds, but after the Inquisitor aided the townspeople, they have volunteered to search in the area." Rylen stood at attention offering a slight nod that Cullen interpreted as reassurance. "However, Orlais' army is already marching and most are already there preparing for our troops. We cannot pull them away from their current post to search."

"That would leave the Inquisition's reputation in tatters." Josephine agreed. "Good news, however, we've allied with Lady Seryl before. She loaned the Inquisition trebuchets for our siege on Adamant and was pleased to offer any available resource at her disposal to find the Inquisitor." Josephine offered Cullen a small smile, though it appeared more polite than genuine.

Cullen plastered stoicism on his features, hiding the sheer disappointment. _I was urgently needed and this is all we have?_ "We wait..." He exhaled sharply. _That's all we've done!_ A sigh escaped his lips and a growl of irritation rumbled from his throat. _An investigation cannot hinge on that alone. What all of this really means, is that we are getting nowhere. Our efforts fruitless._

"We are doing all we can, Commander," Leliana promised.

"It isn't enough! She's still out there!" Cullen pointed out the window and brought his palm down on the war table. He turned away from his fellow advisors, and extended his hands out in front of him, placing them against the stone wall. "That was unworthy. Forgive me." The words came out as a whisper.

Leliana's voice trailed behind him. "We _will_ find her."

"What will our delay cost her?"

Cullen glared at the Iron Bull and shifted his weight. He squeezed the grip on his sword, rolled his wrist and prepared for the fight ahead. To most people, the Iron Bull was scary and understandably intimidating. To Cullen, he was a fierce competitor and the perfect choice of a sparring partner. Their weapons crossed in the middle and the metal clanged in his ears.

_Bull won't take it easy._

The thought comforted him.

_This is the perfect outlet._

"The Boss is strong." Bull thrust his axe forward and Cullen dodged it. "She'll be fine."

"You can't know that." Cullen avoided another strike and his eyes narrowed.

"She's faced Darkspawn," Bull grunted. "Venatori assholes, Red Templars, Assassins."

It was likely the hundredth time he sparred with Bull, and Cullen appreciated his ability to remain somewhat unpredictable. During a fight, like with anything else, people held a propensity toward habits and their style melded based on experiences and hard lessons learned. It was how Cullen studied his opponents to anticipate their next move. Using the known weaknesses of others against them and being aware of one's own was the way to combat it.

"Wardens." Bull continued. "The Fade. You need to trust in her. The Boss can handle anything and come out the other side, especially a few Templars. Ugh, no offense. But she's triumphed over Dragons!"

 _"_ _You're progressing well." Cullen wiped the sweat from his face and dabbed it with a cool towel before tossing a clean one to Evelyn._

_She caught it and downed a gulp of water from the decanter. "I want that dragon's head as a trophy."_

_"_ _I'm not certain picking fights with dragons is the wisest course of action." Cullen's tone was stern but full of concern._

 _"_ _In my defense, they generally find me first." Evelyn laughed._

_Concern morphed into worry, more intense than standardly professional. "You should avoid taking unnecessary risks."_

_"_ _I'll try to be careful," Evelyn assured to no avail._

"Cullen! We're not really trying to take each other's heads off. We save that for the guys who took the Boss." Bull's voice snapped Cullen back to their sparring match, and he noticed him lightly touch the bloody laceration on his side.

"Apologies." Cullen stepped back, lowering his weapon and taking a breath.

"You need to focus. I've gotten worse from Krem but get your head out of your ass." Bull rubbed the blood from his hand onto his breeches and readied his axe. "It's hardly a fair fight when you're distracted."

"How could I not be?" Cullen's shield collided with Bull's weapon.

"Look, I know it isn't easy but she's resourceful. She's no fool. The Boss can manipulate situations to gain the upper hand both tactically and socially. There's a reason she has survived this far, done what nobody else could. Trust in that."

_He's right. Evie earned the title of Inquisitor by her own merit._

"That actually does help." Cullen deflected Bull's next blow with his shield and lunged, jabbing his blade toward his opponent fiercely.

"Plus, the Boss can take a hit. She had a good trainer."

_Cullen watched Evelyn lead her horse to the stables, concerned about the new scar peeking out of her shirt collar. She hadn't been forthcoming with information, so he turned to Blackwall. "Can you explain how that happened?" He demanded._

_Blackwall dismounted, patting his courser's neck. "She doesn't get those scars because she cannot defend herself," he said, "she gets them because she puts herself between us and our foes." He motioned to his elbow, reminding Cullen of an injury from several weeks before. "The one on her arm was when she protected me from losing mine; her leg was a gash from pushing Bull out of a demon's reach; she took an arrow in the back shielding Sera. That was one kept Dorian from the blade of a red templar."_

_Cullen clenched his fists. "You let her do that?"_ As the Inquisitor, she is the most valuable person here, yet they allow her to risk her life defending them?

_Blackwall chuckled the way one might laugh at a demanding child and crossed his arms. "When her mind is made up and we aren't in the position to stop her, what can we do, exactly? Every scar is a person's life, and you can lecture her on it as much as you like —Maker knows we have— but it falls on deaf ears. Cut her some slack," he advised. "She sets the example we all aspire to." _

Distracted, Cullen rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding Bull's axe.


	7. Chapter 7

**48 hours missing/Two days**

"Commander, might I have a word?"

On any other day, Cullen likely would not have been as happy to see Solas as he was, but the elf was never one to stand around and take part in idle gossip. His presence meant he had a purpose, information. "Solas." He sighed in relief. "Do you have any news?" Cullen gestured to the empty chair in his office for Solas to sit. There it was again, that flicker of disapproval in his eyes that diminished some of Cullen's hope, just the same as he had seen in the war room.

"I fear there is not much more to go on despite my recent excursion into the fade. I found her, so that should bring comfort but she was equally as disillusioned."

"What did Ev—" Unable to make it any more personal than what it already was, Cullen corrected himself. " _The Inquisitor_ say?"

"Life isn't red, but green... no more frozen water assaults." Solas parroted, confusion lacing his tone.

_Not red, but green. What could that indicate?_

_No more frozen water assaults…_

_Of course!_

"Snow!" Cullen exclaimed. "If the possibility is no longer there, then she's departing a winter area. We can focus the search. It's appreciated, continue your efforts Solas. Excuse me, I need to speak with the Spymaster."

The night air was frigid, Cullen's breath became visible the moment he stepped outside his office and he wondered where Evelyn was, and if she was warm enough. The Chargers operated via a code of morals for hostages and Cullen instilled that in his own soldiers as well. He prayed that the templars who went rogue would show Evelyn the same respect. He would not allow himself to think otherwise. No, right now, he had to worry about the things he could do and that was inform the others of this revelation.

_A lead, they finally had a substantial lead. It was a start._

So long as it didn't melt away before they found her.

Across the parapet, through the rotunda, and up two flights of stairs was where he expected to find Leliana. To his surprise and frustration, she wasn't there, forcing him to question after her as well. The scout she had minding her ravens in her absence informed him she stepped away but could not say where or when she would be back. Irritated that when he needed his fellow advisor, he could not locate her, Cullen headed towards the Ambassador's office.

When Josephine wasn't there either, he assumed they must have gathered in the war room and perhaps a runner was looking to inform him. Yet, as he pushed open the door, only the light from the hall illuminated the map of Thedas. The candles had been snuffed out and there was nary a soul in sight. Darkness blanketed the normally lively room and the shadows of the markers seemed to mock him, as though they noticed that the Inquisition's Leader had not been present, the emptiness matching his heart's. It left him unsettled, realizing the absence of a prevalent person in both.

 _Maker's breath, where is everyone?_ With his patience dwindling, he sought Cassandra or Rylen, expecting that he wouldn't need to look far. At least one would be near, if not in, the armory, so that was where he went first. However, only the familiar sound of the blacksmith's hammer striking stone was heard. There were no voices nor whispers.

The wood stairs beneath his boots creaked as he ascended to the loft where Cassandra usually rested but saw that empty as well. Cullen clenched his fists and rolled his neck choosing to ignore the pops and cracks it elicited.

_Something is going on in Skyhold and everyone except me knows about it._

Positive if he found one, he would find them all, Cullen retreated down the steps and back outside into the courtyard, only to glimpse Leliana as she emerged from the dungeon.

"Spymaster." Cullen greeted tersely. "There seems to be information I should be privy to…"

"There is, when the time is right, Commander." Leliana met his gaze head-on, an unspoken dare, warning against continuing.

The Void would take him before he accepted that answer. "Unless you wish me to hover over your every movement, it would be in both of our best interests for you to divulge what you know, for I've not the time nor the patience for your games." He said through clenched teeth.

Her eyes narrowed as she challenged him, calling his bluff. "You wouldn't dare."

Unwilling to budge, Cullen squared his shoulders, hoping he was as fiercely intimidating as he envisioned. "Oh, I quite assure you Leliana, you've little idea the lengths I would dare, given the current predicament."

When she saw that he would not back down from this fight, she exhaled sharply and spoke. "Cassandra's interrogations were successful: one of the templars has been discovered as a traitor. We are certain of his guilt though we have not managed a confession… yet. It is a work in progress."

"Why was I not _immediately_ informed?" _Of all the things to keep secret..._

"You said you were too close to the situation and deferred to Rylen. He has it well in hand." Leliana assured him.

"Then I'll speak with _him_." She reached out to touch Cullen, whether to stop him or comfort him, he didn't know, but he shifted out of reach, not wanting either. The hinges of the door screeched as he passed through, descending what felt like his thousandth flight of stairs today. As he made his way lower and lower into the bowels of Skyhold, he was assaulted by the smell of stale water, sweat, and what he hoped was just common sewage and not some decades-old chamber pot. As he suspected, he peered into the dimly lit hall to find Rylen, Josephine, and Cassandra speaking to a prisoner in the cell and though she made no sounds as she moved, Cullen knew Leliana followed behind.

"Rylen, a word," Cullen demanded in a flat tone.

Rylen nodded and stepped towards Cullen as they separated from the others for privacy. "Commander, I understand you're angry. I would be as well. However, were it my lady that had been kidnapped, and were that lady also the Inquisitor… well, I would see myself stooping to unorthodox methods. I did not feel it appropriate, nor did I want to put you in the position to do something beneath you."

"I appreciate the concern, but though you are de facto Commander, I _expect_ to be informed should _any_ potential lead arise, the soonest you are able."

"Understood, Ser."

"Who is the prisoner?"

"Ser Tristan," Rylen muttered. "Thinks it's all well and good to keep his trap shut."

"Then he doesn't comprehend the weight of the situation."

"I suspect not, Commander. But he will— I assure you. By the time I'm done with him, he'll be howling at the moon."

A nod seemed sufficient to show the level of trust Cullen placed in his second of command when Rylen responded with a sly smile. Turning his attention, Cullen walked back to the main area of the dungeon where the others waited.

"Solas visited Evelyn. She was still incoherent but there is strong reason to believe she is in or around areas covered with snow. We will need to send word to the men stationed in these locations to keep an eye out and report anything suspicious."

When the prisoner heard the Commander, it was as if someone pulled a lever. The man became increasingly erratic, hurling himself at the bars and laughing maniacally. "You will never find her, once they're through with her."

"What do they intend?" Cassandra interrogated.

" _Revenge._ They have plans for her." The pitch of his voice fluctuated as he hummed in between his words.

There was something about the way his face twisted with a smirk that struck Cullen, reminding him of the evil he once saw in Kinloch. The implication was enough to make his blood run cold; refreshing his memory on the horrors of seeing his friends slaughtered while he stood helpless. Not all that different from the position he was in right now. He made a vow to himself that he'd never be that powerless again. With gritted teeth, he felt the sweat drip down his back and swallowed hard, reflexively gripping the handle of his sword tighter. The man may not have been possessed, but he was still a monster. "Where is she?" Cullen roared, nearly snarling as he drew his weapon. Were the bars not standing between them and the others, he would have cut him down. _My own soldier._

"I'll never tell," Tristan said, singsongingly.

"There are _other_ ways to make him talk," Leliana advised, grabbing a lit torch from its resting place against the wall.

"You can't possibly be suggesting _that_? "Josephine questioned, smoothing out her dress nervously.

Cullen sheathed his sword, thinking better of his outburst. "Force him to produce the information, by _any means necessary_."

"Commander! You're certain?" Cassandra gasped.

" _You_ condone torture, Commander?" Leliana's eyes nearly sparkled with mischief at the revelation. "How novel."

The word made Cullen wince but he knew he didn't have a choice. "The lengths I dare venture, Leliana." Cullen reminded before he stormed out of the dungeon and slammed the door; ignoring the shrill screaming that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved wiring this side of Cullen in this chapter. Ruthless Rutherford for the right reasons is quite sexy, no?


	8. Chapter 8

**60 Hours Missing.**

Cullen's head laid on the pillow as sunlight streamed through the windows, not quite reaching the foot of the bed. Between his headache from withdrawal and stress over Evelyn, what little sleep he managed wasn't restful. How could it be, not knowing what comforts, needs, or arrangements she'd went without during the night?

_"_ _Revenge. They have plans for her."_

Tristan's statement haunted him. There were so many ways to interpret it. Physically, did they intend her bodily harm? Mentally, did they wish to break her mind like what was once attempted on him, the aftereffects of which he still endured? The only thing that provided remote comfort was that if they had plans for her, then they wanted her alive.

_Alive was good. Alive meant being able to hold her again._

An argument waged war between both sides of his mind. They needed his information but sentencing a man to that fate gave him pause. After everything that he had went through in Kinloch, everything he'd blindly allowed to happen in Kirkwall, he had changed. He wasn't that man anymore. Was allowing Tristan to be tortured unworthy of the transformation his beliefs had undergone?

If he weren't in love with her, would he have made the same decision? She _is_ the Inquisitor, and the most important person in the keep. As Commander, he was entrusted with the safety of all in Skyhold, including but _especially_ her. Their operations in the Arbor Wilds hinged on her ability to beat Corypheus at his own game. Even worse, did that make him as bad as the offenders of the past? _Am I comparable to Meredith? Or worse, a demon?_

The thought sent a shiver up his spine and he shuddered. Was he willing to become a monster, a demon he once hated and feared to keep her safe? Could he live with himself after? Could Evelyn? Then again, why wouldn't he do anything necessary? After all, it was his fault. _His_ men, _his_ templars were responsible for her abduction. Would she blame him too?

_Best to focus on the task at hand and deal with the rest as it comes._

"We've heard from our friends in Jader, Crestwood and Lydes. Despite a thorough and heavily manned search, they have come up empty." Josephine's voice sounded solemn, disappointed, but her nose twitched slightly in disapproval. "You must excuse the Spymaster's absence, she is still working with Tristan."

"Any updates regarding the search efforts?" Cullen desperately needed something; any positive prospect.

Rylen shifted his weight. "We have patrols scouting snowy areas. The Frostbacks, remnants of Haven, Soldier's Peak, and Emprise du Lion. There is also Ostagar, but it has long since been abandoned and with it so close to the wilds, is considered uninhabitable. The Spymaster sent word last night to all available contacts. Should anyone see anything, we will know."

"We are no closer than we were." Cullen rubbed his forehead and groaned. Leave it to the Inquisition to be highly efficient and focused until it touches the very heart of them. _Stumbling in the dark and blind._ With a sigh, he muttered under his breath. "Inform me when you have something."

Throughout the day, Cullen checked on the progress with every member of the inner circle. The Chargers led the excursion through the Frostbacks and Bull accompanied them. Varric wrote letters to contacts within his spynetwork. Cassandra still interrogated the remaining soldiers, most of whom had little or no information. Leliana shooed him away when he peeked his head in the dungeons advising they were close to getting information. Sera inquired with the Red Jennies though hadn't heard back. Josie fielded the inquiries from nobles and ambassadors regarding their concerns about the future of the Inquisition were the Inquisitor not to be found. Blackwall took a contingent of soldiers to search the ruins of Haven. Vivienne worked alongside Dorian on finding a magical solution which may yield information, and Solas was continuing to venture into the fade. Rylen juggled the task of assisting with the Arbor Wilds initiatives and fielding correspondence to determine what made it to Cullen's desk. The only person whom Cullen couldn't stand to check in with was Cole. As it was, his presence seemed to reflect the worry within his own thoughts or that of others and it made matters worse, though he had also been helping Leliana extract information.

Cullen did what he does best and tried to bury himself in work. It had proven an effective method in the past. Focus on something you could change instead of dwelling on what one could not. Yet, it wasn't sufficient this time. His brain fogged and the letters blurred. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that squeezing them shut would refocus and by the time he opened them, the words wouldn't resemble a foreign language. When that didn't work. He paced, thinking about what clues they had and a strategy for how to progress from this point. It seemed that everything appeared at a standstill until more news became available. Cullen hated being sidelined, relying on the dedication of others as he sat contemplating the worst his mind could conjure.

When the knock resounded within his office, it broke through his thoughts, startling him. "What?" he responded tersely.

Dorian's head peeked in. "Might you be interested in a game of chess, Commander?"

Shocked, Cullen shook his head, positive he misheard. "You can't be serious! Evelyn's missing and you wish to play chess?"

"That is what I said, should I speak more slowly next time?" Dorian stepped through the door.

"Have you gone mad? This is why there's been no progression! People are sitting idle while she's out there!" Cullen's pace quickened as he walked from one wall to the other.

"Now, now, Commander. Clearing one's mind always helps in stressful situations. Not that you would know, always drowning yourself in missives." Dorian crossed his ankle as he leaned against the wall. "Are they ever even remotely interesting?"

"I've not the time for this nonsense, Dorian. Some of us are actively working to get her back." Cullen scoffed, still pacing.

"Wait just a minute-"

"No, I will not wait a minute. She's gone. Every moment we sit and talk is another that could be used for something productive. Why am I the only one who seems to grasp that concept?" Cullen interrupted.

"Oh yes, how _dare_ I?" Dorian quipped. "Because berating myself and second-guessing the efforts of our people is a much better method of getting things accomplished."

"I'm not second-guessing our people. I need to remain informed. I've pulled back and removed myself from command, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be privy to news."

"Oh, have you?" Dorian wiped away imaginary dust from his robes. "Or are you still hovering, breathing down everyone's neck, challenging them?"

"How is it that none of you share my concern? Do you not comprehend the severity of the situation? Evelyn is missing. _The Inquisitor_ has been abducted. One would think everyone would be doing more."

"What more is it that you expect everyone to do? We cannot manifest leads from nothing." Dorian's eyes narrowed. "You simply cannot fathom that anyone else would work as hard as you, can you? Is it such a ridiculous notion for you to instill the slightest bit of trust into your colleagues? This isn't your call."

"I have faith my trust is not misplaced. That's why Rylen is acting Commander for this matter." Cullen announced.

"But you haven't backed off! That's my point." Dorian approached Cullen, closing the distance to meet eye to eye. His outstretched finger tapped against Cullen's plate. "For the moment, I'll forgive that you are not of sound mind to see this objectively, but don't you dare insinuate that you are the _only_ person around here who loves her and wants nothing more than her safe return." Dorian's gaze burned into Cullen's, never wavering. "Because you most certainly are not. _"_ To emphasize the last word, he thrust his finger against Cullen's plate again.

"Dor-"

"I wasn't finished! Were there something, _anything_ to do, you can bet your blushing buttcheeks, we'd be doing it! _All of us."_ Dorian crossed his arms and stood taller. "You'll do well to remember that lest you be _actually_ barred from intel for your incessant interference and lack of real contribution."

"Listen here, Dorian-" Cullen's voice rang with command in the same tone he used with his soldiers during training.

Dorian's eyebrows quirked in disbelief. "One of these days," he scolded. "-you will thank me for all I do for you."

The door burst open, cold air swirled around the scout who hurried in, sweeping away the tension in the room. "Commander! You're needed in the war room right away, Ser. The Spymaster has information from the prisoner and we've received another letter."

Without another word, Cullen ran to war council.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The extracted information from Tristan is revealed and the Inquisition has a lead on Evelyn as Cullen’s orders come back to haunt him. The Commander leads a rescue with resistance from the inner circle.

"Fairbanks received a letter this morning from his men in the Emerald Graves. They spotted the Inquisitor being handed over to Samson." Leliana declared, a triumphant smile on her lips. "They saw her alive, this is good news."

Cullen clenched his fists at the name. _I'd hardly call that good news. Maker, when I get my hands on him…_ "We have soldiers stationed in the area. Why didn't they or Fairbanks' men try to intervene?"

"That was per your orders, Commander." Rylen laid a missive down on the war table and pushed it across.

The familiar words nearly jumped off the page, smacking him with the irony. Cullen recognized the memo sent to every officer and read to all the Inquisition, written in his own hand.

_I want this made clear to every man and woman in our army: do not challenge the red templars' leader, General Samson, on your own._

_You may have heard stories of how Samson used to be a templar in Kirkwall until he was thrown out of the Order, that he became a vagrant begging for coin to buy lyrium. That man no longer exists. The fiend who attacked us at Haven had the strength of a dozen men. Samson has the training of a templar and all the power of red lyrium at his command. For those who did not see it firsthand, he is as dangerous as any demon. Perhaps worse. Treat him as such._

_I will hold personally accountable any officers who do not communicate this order to their soldiers._

"Due to the march towards the Arbor Wilds, they didn't have the manpower," Rylen added.

Cullen's mind went blank as his own words came back to haunt him. _Maker's breath, Evelyn is with Samson because of my own instruction._ He leaned forward, balancing himself on the war table, sick with self-loathing. "What- what information did we obtain from the prisoner?" he asked in a low voice, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.

"The correspondence we received from Crestwood, Jader, and Lydes were deliberate decoys, sent to exhaust the Inquisition's remaining resources while we looked in the wrong direction."

_In other words, a complete waste of time._

"The stolen Templar uniform was how they got Evelyn out of Skyhold. When the contingent left for the Arbor Wilds under orders, she was taken with. Based on that and the clues she provided when Solas visited her, coupled with her most recent sighting, we believe she was moved from Sahrnia to the Graves and that they are heading toward the Temple."

Evelyn's words resounded in Cullen's head. _Up is down and dark is light. Whose is it? Mine! No, not mine. So Cold. A sword in flames_.

_Arguing templars, the cold weather, Sahrnia makes sense. I should have seen that._  
  
_Life isn't red, but green... no more frozen water assaults._

_Isn't red, as in no more red lyrium, Emprise du Lion is swarming with it. The green of the Emerald Graves. She was telling us where she was going. We could already be a third of the way by now._ Cullen fell further into hopelessness at his own incompetence. "And what of Tristan?" He swallowed the lump in his throat, bracing himself for the answer he was positive he would receive, yet didn't want to hear.

"Dead." Leliana's stoicism plastered her features. "Believe me, he gave up all the information he possessed."

Cullen shook his head. _He was a traitor, he deserved to die._ Though he knew it to be true, he also understood that as the man who gave the order, the blood was on his hands. Even in Kinloch, Cullen never relished in the kills, he always swung his sword with a heavy heart and that hadn't changed over the years. It was never a small feat to take a man's life. To watch as the glimmer of light in even the darkest eyes faded as they took their final breath. Confident he was justified in his decision, a part of Cullen felt sorry and wished it hadn't been necessary.

Despite his propensity towards evil, Tristan was still someone's relation. A brother, a son, a husband, a friend… Not only did his death stain Cullen's soul, but the hurt those who loved Tristan endured because of his passing was Cullen's fault too.

_But Evelyn may be saved because of it._ Cullen took a deep breath, keeping the thought fixed in his mind, hoping it would ease his guilt some day.

"Per Tristan, the Temple is where she will be handed to Corypheus. Apparently, they thought that by turning her over, Corypheus would abandon the Arbor Wilds, no longer in need of the eluvian he seeks because of the Inquisitor's mark. He can force her to open the fade for him, no mirror needed." Leliana explained.

"Technically, preventing an attack on the Temple would indeed compromise Corypheus' current plan, though more in his favor than ours." Josephine took notes on her clipboard and gaped at the revelation.

"It would seem," Rylen sighed, sending a sympathetic look towards Cullen, "the Templar offenders in question were given sanction."

"By whom?" Cullen demanded. _Who would have that authority?_

"By you," Leliana stated matter of factly, swaying heel to toe with her hands behind her back.

_By me?_ Cullen thought in disbelief as his mind flitted to the unknown templar in his debriefing when he gave the directive. _Understand the Inquisition needs to impede the advance of Samson and Corypheus. You possess sanction to use any means necessary to ensure it._ "Maker, I- that isn't what I meant!" Cullen rubbed his neck, stretching his muscles. _Forgive me Evie._

Rylen cleared his throat regaining the attention of the room. "Now that we have a confirmed location, we will leave with the remainder of the troops in two hours."

_Two hours? We are already behind._ "Absolutely not. That is time we do not have." A renewed sense of fire burned within Cullen's chest. It was a solid lead, and he now had purpose. "I will venture forward with some of the inner circle. I'll not wait any longer." Cullen turned on his heel and strode to the exit. "We've stood idle, now we pursue."

"Commander! That is unwise, you need more than three people!" Josephine called after him.

"She never does." Cullen waved his hand dismissively before pushing open the door.

As he passed through the Ambassador's office, he gave word to a nearby scout. "Inform Lady Cassandra, The Iron Bull, and Dorian, we depart in ten. We have a lead on the Inquisitor's whereabouts."

_"When would you be put into a position where you had to leave on a moment's notice?" Evelyn ruffled through Cullen's packed bag dumping the contents out on his desk._

_"It may never happen. It's a cautionary measure, nothing more." Cullen offered. "Everyone among the inner circle should have one."_

_"You have everything here: potions, rations, spare clothes, extra coin, rope, lockpicks?" Evelyn quirked her eyebrow. "Really Commander, you have lockpicks?"_

_"_ _It isn't my area of expertise, but the idea has merit. Someone could put them to use."_

_"_ _You don't think this is all a bit excessive?"_

_"_ _No, it's necessary." Cullen insisted. "It never hurts to be prepared, Inquisitor."_

_Evelyn sighed as she replaced all the items she spilled. "I suppose you are right."_

_"_ _I will make the arrangements, if you'd like one."_

_"_ _Thanks, I'd appreciate that." Evelyn smiled._

Cullen smirked at the memory as he grabbed his bag that sat next to Evelyn's by the sofa in their quarters. _This is why it was necessary._ After a quick stop to the Undercroft to grab the red lyrium rune from Dagna, he headed to the stables to prepare Silverite for the journey.

_I will bring you home._

**84 hours missing.**

"Commander, we have to make camp. We must rest the mounts." Cassandra pleaded as they entered the gates of Sahrnia.

She'd been saying that for hours and though he tried to push forward and ignore it, he knew that Cassandra wouldn't stop reminding him until he agreed. "Very well. Take Silverite, I will continue on foot." Cullen pulled the reins on his horse until she slowed. He dismounted without losing momentum and jumped, intent to continue. To rest would be to delay further, and he had no intention of waiting a moment more than necessary to find Evelyn. For days, nothing was accomplished. Now, they were in a position to do something.

"You're being ridiculous." Cassandra scolded. "We will retire and leave at first light. It'll benefit no one if you are not at full strength. You are not letting her down by taking care of yourself."

_I have been taking care of myself. While she has been Maker knows where enduring who knows what, I've been in our bed, within the safety and confines of Skyhold's walls, waiting and praying for an answer. This is it and I will not falter._

"Walking will not get you farther than your horse will before tomorrow morning," Dorian added.

_That is true but continuing to press on is something I can control._

"Boss would even tell you that, were she here." Bull agreed.

An underhanded tactic, but irrelevant. "She isn't here, is she?" Cullen sneered.

"Cullen, you need to eat and rest. Sleep deprivation will do you no favors." Cassandra dismounted her own horse, tugging at the reins of Sheath and Silverite.

_How could I possibly be sleep deprived? I have done nothing to warrant it._ As his pace increased, Cullen noticed his lower back and butt tingled from riding so long. Every muscle ached but even so, there was no need to stop when they could press on.

"What is with your sudden aversion to practicality?" Dorian handed his Tevinter Stallion to Bull and ran to catch up to Cullen. "It's like a disease with you lately. You aren't thinking clearly and you need to stop." When he reached for his arm to halt him, Cullen yanked it away and continued, ignoring the attempt. Dorian's eyes narrowed, and he released a huff of breath.

_Why can't they understand I am being practical? Every moment wasted was another log placed under her impending pyre._ "I know what happens when details are missed and action comes too late."

_The dainty body lie on display in Redcliffe for all to see. People came from far and wide to mourn the Hero of Ferelden, the elven mage who gave her life to end the Fifth blight and saved them all. Cullen's own personal savior, the woman who released him from the confines of his torture but also the face worn by the demon to inflict it._

_Her companion gave a beautiful speech, one worthy of her as he recounted memories just as fondly as Cullen would've recited his own. Though they were never intimate, Cullen always felt something more for the enchanting lady and in another life, perhaps it could have been. When the tears streamed from the eyes of the newly appointed King, and his voice broke as he choked back his sobs. Cullen related internally, inappropriate given the fact she had been his charge._

_The lovely young soul was motionless with her hands folded across her chest. Her tiny frame hardly covered half of the stone pillar she rested upon. Light blonde hair with black streaks had been styled, braided, and curled cascading down to her elbows. Though the teal couldn't be seen with her eyes closed, Cullen remembered the warmth they once possessed. The scene was surreal as if he were gazing at a particularly realistic doll crafted by those who owned the Wonders of Thedas shop in Denerim._

_Cullen kissed her hand, the coolness of her skin sending a shiver from his lips down his spine before neatly placing it back to its original position. At the conclusion of the service, The king leaned forward, softly touching a kiss to her lips and Cullen averted his eyes. A single tear fell down his cheek as he grieved another friend taken by evil._

_Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._

_She was laid to rest in her Grey Warden Commander's attire and he knew, had he been more vigilant in his Templar duties, he could have prevented the events with Jowan and Lily that led to Neria joining the Wardens. Her death may not have been his fault, but the events that brought her to this point could have been altered, and he accepted the blame for that._

Cullen hung his head in solemn reflection. _I will storm the Black City as a lone soldier before I allow a similar fate to befall Evelyn. I'll not let the woman I_ love _go without a fight._

"Cullen, if you do not stop, I will freeze you in place," Dorian warned.

With little contemplation, he called Dorian's bluff. _You wouldn't dare._ "I'll cleanse it." Cullen shrugged, disregarding the threat.

"Then I'll do it again," Dorian stated, almost cheerfully. "As a templar who no longer takes lyrium, how many times do you think a cleanse will work before exhaust yourself?"

Cullen wasn't certain. It had been a long time since he had to use his abilities and he hadn't kept up with them on a daily basis like he had while he was on a strict lyrium regimen. It was more than possible he may only be able to dispel the magic once, but if Dorian was bluffing, it hardly mattered.

"Don't you see how unreasonable you're being?" Cassandra's voice was concerned but firm. "Do not make him use his powers on you." For her, it was as close to begging as the headstrong Seeker ever came. "Cullen, I will allow it, given your current lack of sense."

_Cass, of all people, should understand, but I cannot waste time explaining what she should already know._ "As Evelyn's closest friends, you should be more concerned about her best interests." The cold seeped into his boots. Travelling through his pants, up his calf, and into his thighs, settling around his waist. Paralyzing him from the navel down. Cullen snarled and turned his head to glare.

"We _are_ looking out for Boss' best interests." Bull secured the mounts and untied his gear to pitch the tents.

"And somehow you don't seem to think that means finding her."

"Right now, what's best for her is not allowing the man she loves to self destruct in her absence. I for one, would prefer to avoid Ev on the warpath." Dorian added.

Cullen ignored him and pulled what power he could muster. The tingle of small pinpricks trickled within his veins. As it surged through him, he inhaled deeply before releasing. The ice shattered and dissipated. Without looking back, he took three more steps before he was stopped by Winter's Grasp for the second time.

Irritated by the incessant interference, Cullen again cleansed Dorian's magic. This time, his muscles ached from the use of power. His stomach sank, his body drained of energy. Instead of vanishing, the shards of ice scattered to the ground, crunching under his feet as he proceeded onward.

With a wave of his hand, Dorian nonchalantly cast the spell a third time. "I can do this all night, Commander. Your choice." He shrugged as he helped Bull drape the cloth over the stakes.

Cullen tried to pull from years of practice and conditioning to no avail. Without lyrium, he was nowhere near as strong as he used to be and, in this moment, he was paying for it. It was ironic: the chains which once bound him were the very limitations he needed now. "Release me, mage." Cullen hissed, his blood practically boiling from anger, not magic.

"My, my, did the Commander use that as a slur? Consider me thoroughly shocked. And appalled. The man gives you sass during one chess game and suddenly this is what we've come to." Dorian placed a hand against his chest and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Sounded like a slur." Bull agreed, proceeding to put together Cassandra's tent.

"You'll have to do better than that." Dorian said sarcastically. "You do know I'm from Tevinter, right? I've heard worse than that in Skyhold. In fact, I could even teach you a few new ones, should you wish to color your vocabulary. One of these days, you will thank me for rescuing you from your own stupidity."

_Would he ever cease with the snarky commentary? No, probably not._

"Enough!" Cassandra shouted. "Are you daft? Stop this nonsense." She marched in front of a still half-frozen Cullen. "I will release you, provided you regain your wits. Otherwise, you'll force me to knock them back into you and cease whatever it is you think you are doing. Do I make myself clear?"

As much as he hated to admit it, they had him. They could either uncomfortably coerce him to stay here, or he could cooperate and make things easier on himself. With a sharp exhale, he nodded agreement to Cassandra's terms. The ice around his midsection and legs dissolved. "I'll take first watch."

"You most certainly will not."

Cullen heard Bull's voice from behind him. "That honor belongs to me." He stretched out his legs hoping to regain the feeling.

Without a word, Cullen draped his bedroll on the ground deciding to forgo the company and a tent despite Cassandra's stern look and gesture to Dorian's. _I'll sooner sleep on the cold ground than with Dorian and Bull and their machinations._ He stared at the stars wondering if Evelyn could see them too and prayed.

_Though all before me is shadow…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else notice the verbatim Samson codex in there? I was trying to be clever using his exact in game directive against him. Poor Cullen.


	10. Chapter 10

Courtesy of the Spymaster, Seeker, Altus, and Ambassador, the candlelight illuminating the garden projected a soft iridescent hue. The flowers, well-tended by the herbalist, were in full bloom, carefully arranged along the exterior of the gazebo. Per explicit orders, the area had been cordoned off for their own personal use this evening. Soft music supplied by Dorian's spell chimed, echoing throughout the space. Despite Cullen's propensity to remain armed and armored at all times, an occasion such as this required finery. Not just any formal attire, but ensembles stitched by the best tailor the Ambassador could hire for both himself and Evelyn. An entire weeks' worth of coin went into making the night possible. Perfectly executed down to the last detail Cullen had envisioned, he prayed more than anything she would say yes. It wasn't that she needed anything lavish or ornate, but that she deserved it. For everything he couldn't offer her without land or a title outside the Inquisition, he wanted to ensure that she had the best of what he _could_ give.

He stood as a gentleman and not a soldier for the purposes of this endeavor. Unlike the garb he wore to the Winter Palace, his finery had appropriate measurements. His coat was white, made of royal silk with red embroidery along the collar and cuffs complementing his gloves and sash which extended from his right shoulder to his left hip. Coupled with a pair of blackened samite breeches and boots, his suit was complete. A quick tap to his pocket confirmed the location of the ring. With his right hand bent at the elbow, placed in front of his jacket, and the left situated behind his back, he straightened his posture, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his lady.

There was no preventing the smile that tugged at his lips when Evelyn came into view. The ball gown she wore was a deep red, custom ordered Highever weave embellished with intricate glass beading along the V cut neckline and the bodice. The detail spanned through the skirt, speckling it like a waterfall. The tailor was worth every gold piece that was paid, as the dress was a perfect fit and conveniently left in their quarters as a gift accompanied by a note that requested her presence. It hugged her form, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips before cascading down to the floor. For the first time in his life, Cullen understood why people threw ridiculous amounts of coin on such opulent possessions for these occasions.

Her heels clicked against the stone walkway as she approached. The pounding in his chest beat within his ears and he wiped the sweat off of his brow, hoping she hadn't seen. With every step, she took his breath away. Raven locks twisted and pinned half up draped across her shoulders. Kohl enhanced the blue of her eyes, sparkling amidst the firelight and her crimson lips matched the material. As she took in the atmosphere, she smiled as brightly as the sun shines upon Thedas.

"You look lovely." Cullen bowed.

"Did you do all of this?" Evelyn's eyes widened as she scoured every detail before curtseying in return.

Pride radiated in Cullen's chest at her approval. _She loved it._

"I admit, I had some help." With an exaggerated flourish that rivaled any of Dorian's, Cullen extended his hand. "May I have this dance, my Lady?"

"You're offering to dance? Of your own volition, and we aren't even at a ball." Evelyn teased. "Are you unwell?" Her tone changed from playful to serious as a light smile curved at her lips. "I would love to."

Despite the Tevinter's overly critical evaluation of his nonexistent dancing skills, he had learned to avoid stepping on gowns and feet, and could lead even the most clumsy across the dance floor without faltering after months of practice. Remembering Dorian's words, a smirk spanned his features. _"A beautiful partner who knows what he's doing can make even the worst dancer look like a master."_

Cullen prompted Evelyn to spin as he lifted her arm above her head. Her skirt blossomed like the bottom of a bell with her movements. Upon her return, he pulled her even closer and they danced in comfortable silence, enjoying one another's company under the moonlight that streamed through the gazebo.

He feared his words would fail him. That the turn of phrase sufficient to describe all he felt for this one singular woman did not exist. No matter what he said, it would be inadequate. War raged within his own mind. _This is preposterous. You are a soldier, you lead men into battle, formulating a coherent sentence has never been an issue in strategic circumstances. You can give orders, lectures, and rave like a madman when you are passionate about a war operation; get it together Cullen._

_But you've never had to explain to a woman that you'd be lost without her. That she's the light that eclipses your darkness. Her mere presence makes you a better man and that you'll strive every day until you take your last breath to be worthy of her. That you've no idea why the Maker saw fit to bless you, of all people, despite the mistakes you've made and the man whose reflection you once abhorred, with someone so warm, encouraging, and full of obnoxious quirks that even at the end of a long day, you cannot help but adore. That she saves you from yourself by being herself. And even if she says no, and it ends your romantic relationship, you still wish to be a part of her life because without her, you are utterly incomplete._

The thoughts in his mind jumbled, turning into a knot of nonsense and he forgot everything. He tried to focus on not stepping on her toes and getting through the dance, but realized they'd been standing there in stilled silence for Maker knew how long. The neurons in his brain fired on overdrive and his mouth rushed ahead without the grand speech he'd prepared. "Marry me," he blurted.

_That wasn't even a question!_

Evelyn's eyes widened and her mouth gaped. Fear told him that he'd offended her and he almost wanted to take it back. He withdrew his right hand from hers and massaged his neck as his cheeks flushed. He was still standing and if this was going to be a massive failure, he may as well lay it all on the line. The floor dug through his pants and scraped against his knee as he knelt, but he paid it no mind. Amber eyes met blue and he stared, searching for the answer which lie within, waiting on pins and needles for the response he desperately hoped to hear pass her lips.

Time was frozen as an eternity drifted by. It had been a matter of seconds. Evelyn cocked her head to the side. Her smile extended to her eyes as she said "yes" and laughed. He didn't register it at first and he shook his head, positive that she couldn't have agreed to his proposal, to become his wife.

"What?" He questioned without thought.

"I said, yes," Evelyn repeated.

Cullen chuckled. He heard it and it was the sweetest word ever spoken in the King's tongue yet he didn't move from his position. _She said yes!_

"But, as appreciated as this is, none of it was necessary." She waved her hand to the dramatic display of decorations. "You could have written it on a missive and the answer would have been the same."

 _Now, why didn't you think of that?_ Silence filled the air and Cullen stared at her, blinking repeatedly.

"Isn't this the part where we kiss?" Evelyn teased.

 _Kiss her you fool!_ "Oh, right." Snapped back to his senses, he lifted her within his arms and pressed their lips together, thanking the Maker for every single thing- including his time in Kinloch- that led him to this point where he had never known such happiness. _Maker, the ring!_ Cullen withdrew the box from his jacket pocket, and shifted off the lid, the nerves wracked him again. _What if she doesn't like it?_

The ring was a silver band adorned with a center cut diamond surrounded by two rubies on each side. For months, he had Leliana keep an eye out. When she found such treasure and at a price he could afford, Cullen jumped at the opportunity to buy them. With the help of a jewelry merchant in Val Royeaux- courtesy of Josephine-the stones were cut and set into the ring as he'd requested.

"Maker, Cullen! It's stunning!"

It was then he realized how big of a fool he was. _She'd agreed before I gave her the ring._ He couldn't help the ridiculous smile plastered on his face as he slipped it on her ring finger; a perfect fit. Between Leliana and Josephine, he expected no less.

Evelyn held up her hand admired the quality and positively beamed.

"I've arranged for a private dinner in our quarters. Shall we?" Cullen gestured to the door leading to the main hall. Evelyn giggled excitedly as Cullen snuffed out the candles. "I'll be but a moment."

Though his task delayed him, he opened the door the second it closed behind her. The main hall looked nothing like he left it and Evelyn was nowhere in sight. Black banners and drapes hung in lieu of Evelyn's carefully handpicked decorations. A crowd of people gathered, filling the room to capacity. They surrounded the dais which the Inquisitor's throne sat upon. Cullen pushed through the unrelenting crowd, and tried to catch a glimpse of what had everyone so enraptured.

At first, he mumbled "excuse me" under his breath, but people neither acknowledged him or took heed. An uncomfortable aura loomed and Cullen couldn't quite place where he'd felt this way before. A sense of urgency overtook him and he picked up the pace. Irritated that they weren't listening, he demanded attention, lacing his tone with the ring of command. "Move it! Move it!" Yet, they continued to ignore him. At this point, he nearly shoved them in order to pass.

He finally approached where Evelyn's throne should sit, and instead his heart seized. Breath hitched in his throat and he tried to force air into his lungs. The blood in his veins ran cold as he stared at a copy of himself, not dressed in white, but in black as he addressed the spectators. Stone replaced the throne and the body which laid upon it was Evelyn's. Dread washed over him as he realized the atmosphere was one of mourning. It lingered like a storm cloud, hovering over tragedy as it did in Kinloch, in Kirkwall, at the Hero of Ferelden's services.

Evie was positioned the same way Neria was, hands crossed, resting on her chest. The cries from the crowd turned into sobs and became noisier. His voice echoed within the hall, resounding with little effort. The tone was that of a whisper, but could be heard crystal clear. In his memory, he had traded places with King Alistair and was delivering his speech regarding the woman who saved his life, the one whose dead body laid before the masses. Though his tears streamed silently, his words were shaky and he sounded broken. An emptiness filled him; grief pierced his heart and for a moment, he was certain he'd been stabbed. No blood stained his finery, nor was there a physical wound of any kind on his person. The entire inner circle huddled in a corner mourning the loss of their beloved Inquisitor.

Cullen wasn't only disconsolate over the loss of their leader, but he lost a friend, a comrade-in-arms, a lover, and his betrothed. He gazed upon the face of his intended in horror, the realization weighed him down like bricks. He may not have delivered the final blow, but the events that brought her to this point could have been altered. His orders caused this by the men under his command. The directive given in the debriefing inflicted this upon her and like Tristan, he held the blame for Evelyn's death. The blood of his future wife and any of their potential children were forever stained on his hands. His dreams, obliterated.

_Were_ _I more vigilant, I could have prevented this. Similar to Neria._

"Commander!" Solas' voice carried over the plethora of people, but the sound didn't come from the one dressed in black with the other members of the inner circle. This Solas looked otherwise normal and donned the standard mage robes and staff that he frequently wore. Cullen squeezed and rubbed his eyes, hoping to cease his double vision. When he opened them, there were still two versions of the elf.

"Listen to me carefully. We haven't much time. You are dreaming and in the fade, this isn't real."

"Then there's a chance! I may still be able to save her?" Cullen grabbed Solas by the shoulders allowing the glimmer of hope to seep into his shattered heart. _This may not yet be beyond repair._

After prying Cullen's hands away from his person, Solas averted his eyes, seemingly reluctant with hesitation in his tone. "Commander, you need to comprehend the gravity of the situation. When I dream-walked with the Inquisitor before, she manifested it with such remarkable detail. The anchor's influence, I suspect. It was nearly impossible to differentiate The Fade from the real world. Which is why, when I sought her out after her capture and I saw only green, I became concerned. I am certain she was under the influence of a substance that compromised cognitive function, as I stated. I have been attempting to reach her since she provided the second disoriented message and I cannot. There are three common reasons why one would no longer dream. With the solution they gave her, it makes no sense to administer more to prevent dreaming when she was already disillusioned as things were. Neither is she a mage. The only remaining option logically, is that-"

"Oh, Maker!" Cullen interrupted. His gaze returned to Evelyn as she laid on the stone; all hope quashed by Solas' words. He bit his lip, and closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from pooling before he spoke. "Evelyn is dead. She's really dead."

He looked at his hands dripping with her blood.


	11. Chapter 11

Cullen was startled awake by the dream revelation. He was drenched in sweat and his head swam. Burying his face in his hands, he exhaled shakily. He wanted to deny it. Solas obviously was wrong. Evie couldn't be… he couldn't bring himself to say the word. Admitting it would make it real and until she was recovered and he held her lifeless in his arms, he could not lend credence to such a thought. _A body._ He realized, he would have to find the location and recover it. They were already pressed for time. Still days away from the Arbor Wilds -assuming she'd been left there- he would have to battle the elements and the wildlife in order to recover her in one piece, fit for a pyre. His mind was his own worst enemy and though he tried to banish it, an unrecognizable and mangled corpse, _hers,_ remained at the forefront causing the blood to drain from his features.

So lost in thought, it took him a moment to come to terms with reality. The sun beamed down on him and he became irritated, realizing he overslept. _We should have left at dawn._ His curly locks hadn't been tamed and he opted to skip the bath. Even if he wanted to take one, there wasn't any place here that wouldn't cause his appendages to freeze off. The succulent aroma of breakfast called to his hungry stomach and it rumbled in response. Yet, he neither caught it nor cooked it and given the tension from their debacle, he settled for the rations he pulled from his pack. Without a word, he scarfed down both the dried meat and a few chugs of water he decided to use sparingly, in case there was no other option.

He dressed in his plate and watched the remainder of the party laugh and eat as if there wasn't a care in the world. He gritted his teeth and scowled. By their demeanor alone, he could tell they hadn't received the same grim message from Solas. Perhaps he felt the need to warn Cullen alone knowing the extent of his personal relationship with the Inquisitor. Whatever the reason, he clearly hadn't told the others. For now, it was for the best. They seemed so happy, how could he take that away from them when he was in disbelief? The inner circle was so confident they would get to Evelyn and find her safe and sound. _So incredibly wrong._

_I wanted to look for her first thing. Cassandra told me no. I deferred to Rylen, relinquished control to ensure this was handled objectively. It's possible it wouldn't have changed matters, but I could have done more. I owed her that much._

His heart thudded slowly in his chest, a dull and unrelenting ache that echoed through his entire being and he yearned to clear his head, to take a moment of silent reflection and grief. The edge of the frozen river was on the outskirts of town and he contemplated a long walk to clear his head. Instead, he sought time alone and visited Sahrnia's makeshift chapel before getting a move on.

_Evelyn would want us to press forward._

The name formed a lump in his throat and he swallowed dryly. In an instant, his cuirass seemed to choke him as he forced breath into his lungs and his heart constricted. The wind was frigid, and it was as if the surrounding atmosphere reacted, a reflection of his grief. His eyes burned with tears and he clenched his fists, sucking air into his body with slow, calming breaths.

Once he could breathe again without difficulty, he made his way slowly back to camp. Whether it was because Bull was a spy or because Cullen was so lost in his grief, he never heard the Qunari approach until he placed a heavy hand upon his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Cullen. You'll see."

"No," Cullen said, moving out from under Bull's hand, "nothing will _ever_ be all right again." He rolled out the muscles in his shoulders and straightened his posture to give the illusion everything was normal. "I could use a hand packing up, we should be halfway to the Emerald Graves by now."

Cullen knew he should tell them, should say something, _anything_. Yet, he couldn't form the words. As if speaking them aloud would mean acceptance, and he wasn't able to do that. Not now, perhaps not ever.

Silverite bounced Cullen up and down with each trot. Horseback riding had never been his favorite. Though he was quite skilled in the matter, it was rather uncomfortable after long periods of time. He shifted awkwardly until he was moderately satisfied with his position. Cullen's plate clanked with each jerk and it added to the pounding in his head. A subtle breeze blew and the familiar scent of lavender and honey filled his nostrils from the last time she wore his mantle.

And that's all it took.

Pressing his cheek against its fur, he inhaled as tears formed and trickled down his face; thankful that he took lead. With the rest of the party following behind him, he let them fall without wiping them away. Even were he in their line of sight, he wouldn't bother as he wasn't ashamed, though it would provoke questions he was unwilling to answer. If they knew, they would continue to talk about her, recalling memories of the good times, perhaps lose hope or sight of the mission given the news. He couldn't risk it. Moreover, telling them would require speech and he wasn't certain he could formulate words. Despite his crying, he neither sobbed nor sniffled, but suffered in silence alone with his memories on the path laid before them.

_Pleased that he finally had a spare moment to speak with her regarding her weapons training, he quickened his steps to catch up with her as she left the tavern. "Lady Herald." He'd need to evaluate her current expertise to determine where to place her or if one-on-one sessions were appropriate._

_"_ _Ugh." Evelyn groaned. "Could you call me anything else other than that or Your Worship?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste._

_"_ _It wouldn't be professional." Her pace accelerated, though he kept up with her long strides. It was almost as if she was trying to avoid him._

_"Yeah, well neither is locking someone up and making them your prisoner until you coerce them to do what you want." She quirked her eyebrow at him. "Your soldiers found me, so I imagine it was on your order they threw me in irons. Was it not?"_

_This was true. The soldiers were uncertain what to do with her, until they could find out more information, he had little choice. She could have been responsible for the deaths of hundreds. Treating it any other way would have been a grave error in judgment. "It was necessary at the time."_

_"It's always necessary." Evelyn retorted. "But since you are now aware, I'll take that apology."_

_Cullen shook his head. "I'll not apologize for protecting the people of Haven from our only suspect in the conclave explosion."_

_"Okay." Evelyn shrugged. "Well, I'll be around when you change your mind." As the path branched off, she headed towards Haven's doors. "Oh and Commander, I'll not apologize either."_

_"What for?"_  
_  
"For not giving you the time of day." With a wink and a smile, the doors closed behind her._

The urge to say something was ever-present, and he was compelled to speak aloud. "I never apologized," Cullen whispered. "There were a great many instances where I should have. Even so," Cullen softly chuckled, his salty tears running over his lips, "that wasn't one of them."

_"_ _Unless you're here to buy the next round, I am off duty." Evelyn sat the empty tankard down on the table, the metal thudding softly against the wood._

_"_ _The Herald doesn't have that luxury, I fear." Cullen took the stool next to her. "It's imperative we discuss your level of weapons training. I'll not send you out there without adequate means of defense."_

_"They're right about you." Evelyn motioned to Flissa for another round. The barkeep set two ales down on the table and Eve pushed it in front of Cullen. "You need to lighten up."_

_"Who's right about me?"_

_"Everyone." She gestured around the room to the patrons scattered about. "Have you met you?"_

_He clicked his tongue, left his coin purse on the table -buying the round- and departed without taking a sip of his own drink. "Another time, then."_

Time was man's worst concept: yesterday there wasn't enough, and he'd raced against it. Today, its sheer abundance was his enemy. The irony made anger churn in his gut and blackened his heart.

It occurred to him that mere hours earlier, he _was_ mounting a _rescue_ , not a _recovery_.

The Chant for the Departed passed his lips and he hoped that she was sent to the Maker's side in tranquility. That there was no pain, darkness, or suffering but the worst part of his mind argued against that logic. Cullen was nothing if not determined. He would retrieve her body and see her returned to the Maker. _She deserved peace._ He would return her home with a contingent of soldiers and compose a letter to both the Rutherfords and the Trevelyans informing them that instead of planning the wedding he'd already received their blessing for, he'd be preparing her pyre. Overseeing the details of a gathering where everyone could say their goodbyes and mourn the hero who saved them all on countless occasions.

_Saved people who would never thank her, never truly appreciate what she was willing to give. What she gave._

For the duration of the trip, he was alone with his thoughts- a dangerous place to be in his current state.

She'd been missing for four and a half days, 108 hours to be exact, the realization dawned on him when they entered the Emerald Graves. Deciding to camp for the eve, they would depart for the Arbor Wilds at first light. He did what he could to set his grief aside though he continued to blink back a great many tears and focus on his tasks. Should one slide down his cheek, he could blame it on allergies that made his eyes water to avoid questions and speculation. Which, given the vast amount of trees and brush in the area, wasn't necessarily a lie. Courtesy of the long journey that allowed him to contemplate his next move, Cullen was now a man on a new mission; a renewed purpose. It was with the ferocity of a force of nature that Cullen decided: _Samson must die._

Cullen fully intended to ensure that Samson's death was bloody and violent. Vengeance for all the suffering the monster had inflicted. Then he could allow himself to mourn: over his friends, his former comrades-in-arms that Samson poisoned, and his love. Cullen felt a sliver of anxiety at the thought of battle with Samson; the rune would certainly help, but Samson had been ingesting large quantities of red lyrium while Cullen himself had been battling withdrawals. Even if his armor could be broken, the lyrium still gave him the upper hand.

That would pose a problem.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.

**120 Hours Missing/ 5 days.**

Cullen stood in front of the vendor's cart, noting the various wares for sale. The dwarven owner looked up to him because of their height difference. Scruffy and rugged with a lengthy beard, the man peered at Cullen with beady eyes. "But-Commander!" The merchant nearly quaked.

Cullen stifled the desire to snort in amusement and it only added to his confidence for today's endeavors. Either by title or appearance, he was the intimidating sort. The thought was ironic, though positive. "Is my coin sufficient, or no?" Reluctantly, the merchant handed over Cullen's purchased goods and he replenished the supplies in his pockets and pack. With the battle ahead, they'd needed to restock all they had exhausted on their journey.

The Arbor Wilds had never looked so occupied. Wagons had been blocked into place and tents erected, filling the spaces between trees. Blooms of various flowers and fruits surrounded the area. Cuts of leafy branches hung over the top of most carts providing shade under the warmth of the sun. Both Inquisition and Orlesian scouts and soldiers ran training drills, and Chantry personnel acted as merchants with makeshift shops, healers clinics, and led prayer circles for the faithful.

Cullen debated on joining them for a moment, but thought better of it and opted to check in with Rylen. He stood in front of a number of men, instructing and delegating as required; taking the responsibilities that Cullen would ordinarily assign. "The bulk of our force is here, Commander. We march as soon as the sun is over the tree line." Rylen declared as he performed uniform and equipment inspection.

"I trust everything is on course." Cullen slapped Rylen on the back. "You've done well. I will be accompanying the inner circle for the assault on the Temple. You'll lead the men in my stead."

His features displayed those of pride, beaming with confidence; Rylen nodded curtly. "It'd be an honor Commander." He saluted and Cullen responded in kind.

"There's no one better suited to the task."

Cullen and the inner circle -along with Morrigan- pushed onward towards the temple. Despite a few skirmishes, the path was passable. As the soldiers and scouts were engaged in their own battles, few noticed them. Which was a good thing, considering Cullen was finding it hard to think past the thought of losing Evelyn.

_Cullen grabbed Evelyn's hands and rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs. He cleared his throat, uncertain of the best way to approach the subject. "Evie. There's something we should discuss."_

_Evelyn's eyes met his for a moment and Cullen swore he saw something he'd never seen before. Fear?_

_He stifled a chuckle at the absurdity. He'd seen this woman stare down an ancient darkspawn magister, battle behemoths, and read the reports on her taking down ten high dragons across Thedas. The idea that such a simple phrase as "there's something we should discuss" set her on edge would be amusing had she not looked so stricken._

_Cullen backtracked, offering immediate reassurance. "Mia wants to meet you. I told her I would inquire. If you aren't opposed to the idea…"_

_Evelyn interrupted him with a kiss. "Cullen, I would love to!" She sighed. Her muscles visibly loosened. He had to think for a few moments before remembering what they were talking about; the kiss having stopped all coherent thought._

_Maker, if that's her reaction, what did she think I would say? Cullen stroked her cheek. "I didn't mean to worry you."_

Reflexively, he gripped his sword, clenching his fist around the hilt. Ordinarily, he turned to the Maker, citing the Chant of Light to make himself feel better, but even the passages that he'd known since he was a boy provided little comfort or peace. His hatred and rage were weights. Though it was a different chain than the bindings of lyrium, it still came with a substantial price.

Cullen heard those accompanying him talking as they walked, as if he weren't present or of sound mind to comprehend.

"What do you think is his problem?" Varric asked in a low voice, obviously not meaning for Cullen to hear.

"You know he hasn't been himself since Boss went missing." Bull declared.

"I'd recommend we kiss and makeup, but I fear what the Commander would do." Dorian concurred.

Ordinarily, Cullen would have been irritated at their disrespect but today, there were more pressing matters- like ripping Samson's heart from his chest. With the thought renewing his determination, he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on circumstances; keeping revenge in sight. But maker, he missed her, more than he ever did when she was away on Inquisition business. At least then he knew there was a possibility she would come back. Her companions would've defended her, ensured she returned. Now, she was just _gone_.

It would've been all too easy to lay the blame at the other's feet, to declare that they were responsible given how they had disregarded her. Yet, everyone, himself included _,_ had been too busy. The men who had spotted her should have done something - _anything_ \- but had stayed their hands because of his own orders. He was most at fault.

_Maker, he even missed her temper._ On a good day, it could rival his own. Generally, his was concealed; tamed through years of training showing restraint, but when he was passionate about something, it flared, particularly in the war room, indicated by curt responses and visual cues. Even though being on the receiving end of her ire wasn't pleasant, he respected it, holding an appreciation for the morals she valued enough to defend vehemently.

_The Inquisitor read Cullen's note attached to Sister Paulette's letter and her brow creased as her lips downturned. He heard the clack of her teeth as she closed her mouth and gritted them._

_The bottom line was the Inquisition could save wounded soldiers or could follow the Red Templar's trail. Either way, there would be victims and death. She paced on her side of the war table pausing momentarily as though she planned to speak but couldn't formulate the words. She returned to pacing. "Thoughts?" She asked stoically. Her playful tone was gone, as was the smile which was present moments ago._  
_  
"These soldiers are still our allies. They've done their part; we cannot abandon them." Josephine announced._

_"_ _If the Red Templars escape, more people will be harmed. Our soldiers would understand." Cullen explained with a heavy heart. The moment the words came from his mouth, he regretted them -not the advice given but that he had to give it. Evelyn's eyes narrowed and she clicked her tongue._

_" I'm sorry, they would UNDERSTAND?" She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. "How in the fuck does one understand that? Oh sorry, the Inquisitor left you to die on the off chance we may save others, thanks for your service. You can't be serious! These are your men too, Commander! Would you understand?"_

_Despite the outburst, he knew she wasn't angry nor swearing at him, but to him. Venting over an impossible choice. It's the same reaction he had internally when he read the letter and wrote the response that they could only save one. Cullen knew, even before she'd asked- because she would ask- that a lack of acknowledgment to her question was the best approach. "No one wants to make this call."_

Enraptured within his own mind, he hadn't noticed how they'd come to arrive. Though once they passed through the main doors, his focus became razor sharp as Samson came into view. Their eyes met and Cullen glared at him with pure hatred. An explosion rocked the ground and Samson smugly waved before jumping in the newly formed pit.

Cullen could not let him get away. "I'm going after him," he announced to the group, drawing his sword.

Morrigan pointed to a nearby stone, elven words etched into the coarse rock. "No. T'is unwise. We should respect the Elven rituals."

"What?" Cullen questioned and he turned his head to the side. _Why waste time with nonsense? We have a path and need to move forward._

"We cannot charge forth. These markings are here for a purpose. One greater than you or I can even fathom." Morrigan ran her fingers along the carvings. "T'would be rude to intrude upon their temple and not complete the required tasks. This area is sacred."

Cullen stared at her, dumbfounded. _We haven't time for games._ How far would Samson get while they were busy respecting the elven culture?

When he didn't respond, she continued. "Are you like King Alistair then, needing small words and simple sentences?" The mage asked with a condescending tone as she pointed to carvings as though Cullen could read them.

"Will that silence you faster? Time is short. Do what you feel you must, but I'll not let that man draw more breath than necessary, no matter the perceived insult." Cullen turned to depart, no longer allowing time to pass while they sit idle.

"Um, excuse me, do I look like a painted Orlesian strumpet you can just love and leave?" Dorian punctuated his declaration by planting his staff on the ground. "You're not going without me."

"Me either." Varric chimed, taking a step from behind Cassandra.

"Or me." Bull insisted, walking forward with his axe over his shoulder.

Cullen stood at the edge of the chasm and took a moment to prepare for the fight ahead. He inhaled deeply as he shook his head, dreading the cause of his eagerness for the fight to come. It had been more than a year since he last drank a draught of lyrium. He stared at the destruction, knowing that Samson lay just beyond. The indentation of the vials he purchased from the merchant sat in his pocket as he grazed his hand over it, hating himself for his own thoughts.

Yet, he withdrew a draught regardless and stirred the vibrant blue liquid inside. He shifted his weight in discomfort. He knew that he didn't want this, knew that this was a grave mistake, but he had nothing left to lose. To ensure Samson was beaten, that he avenged Evelyn and made the wretched monster pay for all the torment he inflicted upon others: Cullen drank.

He let the drug pass his lips. The sudden rush causing him to release the vial and it shattered on the ground; a single drop dripped from the glass to the grass.

"Curly, what the _fuck_ did you just do?"


	13. Chapter 13

Cullen rolled his neck, feeling the power of the lyrium surge inside him increasing his strength and focus. They'd made short work of the passages underneath the temple and found Samson in an open area after descending crumbling stairs. Plants and brush sprouted through cracks of weathered stone, a clear indication these grounds hadn't been walked in many years. Little care had been taken for the place, the dirty pool of water situated to Cullen's left was full of leaves and various debris. Eroded ruins made him question the stability of the area, especially in preparation for the impending battle.

Thwarting Samson's plan to reach the Well of Sorrows gave Cullen a sense of gratification. _You will not succeed._ He counted the enemies, one for each of them. _At least we're evenly matched._ Confident that he, Bull, Dorian, and Varric would emerge victoriously; he stood taller in Samson's presence.

"Sending the lowly assistants instead of the Inquisitor?" Samson wiped the sweat away from his brow taming grimy hair behind a receding hairline. Outside of the lyrium, his armor appeared rusted, a sub par piece of blacksmithing which Harritt would have found appalling. A smirk twisted his cracked lips, eyes beady and voice laced with a condescending tone. "Oh right, she couldn't make it. Wonder how that happened." A laugh ripped from his throat, an indication of undue arrogance.

"How dare you!" Cullen roared, dizzy with rage and lyrium. Emotion radiated through his blood and enflamed his cheeks. "You are a monster and will die by my hand, for Evelyn."

Samson laughed in his face, the insult as real as a slap to his cheek.

The sound was a shriek as piercing as Leliana's ravens scratching their beaks against the windows at Skyhold and as cold as the wind blowing off the Frostbacks. Evil stared at Cullen through a face he once knew well, chipped yellow teeth showed how far he'd fallen. Despite once being a well groomed templar, he looked equally as grotesque as the Red Templars in his company, morphed and mutilated by singing red crystals.

If Cullen wasn't beyond the point of furious before, he was utterly seething at Samson's nonchalance and insulting attitude. Cullen's hand gripped the hilt of his sword that his knuckles turned white. Were it made of any other material, it would've snapped. He clenched his jaw so tightly, the muscles in his face jumped and shuddered at the tension.

"Corypheus chose me twice. Once as his loyal general then as the vessel for the Well of Sorrows." Samson gloated, beaming with pride. "With the power of the Well at his disposal, he won't need the precious anchor."

"Then why did you take her?" Cullen demanded, pointing an accusatory finger. He swallowed thickly, past the sudden lump in his throat, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Take her?" Samson said innocently, a small smile on his thin lips. "Cullen, I didn't." Samson swung his sword in circles with his wrist, taunting Cullen. "That was a nice little surprise arranged by the men under _your_ Command, I'm told. But worry not, the threat has been _neutralized_."

"Neutralized? That's how you would describe murder? To think, I once had hope that you would become a better man." Cullen scoffed, his voice low, laced with disgust and hatred. He tamed his anger through gritted teeth and ignored the tremor in his hands knowing it was unrelated to lyrium and caused by blind rage. "Evelyn's death lit your pyre."

"Wait a minute! Wait just a minute!" Varric exclaimed, looking between Dorian and Bull. "Let's backtrack here, shall we… her WHAT!?"

Dorian responded to the unspoken, shaking his head. "I overheard the Commander in the Sahrnia chapel. I thought it was paranoia; I didn't think it true."

"That explains a lot. Damn," Bull muttered, shoulders slumping. "Boss is dead? Really?" He took a deep breath, hefting his axe and straightening his shoulders, a battle-hard look on his face. "I cannot _wait_ to kill these assholes."

"Get in line." Dorian snarled, readying his staff. "The handsome Tevinter leads the way." He stepped in front of Bull, providing a clear view of Samson's men.

"I assure you Commander." Samson's eyes narrowed. "Her _fate_ was entirely on your blood-stained hands." Streaks of red lyrium traveled over his armor until it engulfed it completely, glowing with power. "You cannot defeat me, try as you might."

Cullen removed the rune from his belt pouch and as he approached it illuminated. Samson's armor cracked and split into pieces on the ground without further prompting. "You will pay for this. I will ensure it."

Samson stared at Cullen in disbelief.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Cullen attacked, feeling the stir of mana in the air as Dorian fired volleys into Samson's colleagues. The whistling from Varric's crossbow bolt flew past him, piercing the chest of another red templar. Bull's inspired roar rang out along with colorful expletives in a combination of languages.

_We take no prisoners._

As far as Cullen was concerned, it was only he and Samson. The other man would not come out of this temple alive. Swords met in a shower of sparks and sharp ringing of steel and Cullen used the momentary tangle of weapons to kick at his midsection. _He's faster and stronger than me,_ he realized _._ _Even without his armor, this won't be a simple brawl._

Samson staggered back, winded. Evelyn's voice resounded in Cullen's head giving him strength to draw from.

_"Take away the armor and his lyrium and Samson is just another man."_

_Just another man._

His rage flourished. As his thoughts swirled, he was left off balance by the shield bash that Samson delivered.

_Samson was nothing and no one. A washed up templar, expelled from the Order who served his comrades, his friends, up for slaughter. He's a demon._

_I will avenge you and bring you home as promised_.

His thoughts flitted to the Chant and he found a fitting passage to recite during Samson's demise. A prayer for his beloved. "You have walked beside me." He said aloud and rolled to his right, regaining his footing. "Down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh."

"The Chant? Cullen, really?" Samson quirked an eyebrow before whipping his sword and Cullen defended, delivering a strike of his own that clipped Samson's arm. "It won't serve you any more now than it has in the past."

Cullen ignored the comment. The metallic smell of blood filled the air and Cullen smirked. Satisfied as he kept praying, hoping it traveled from his lips to Evelyn's ears.

_So, he can still wield a weapon with efficiency._

They crashed into one another again, Samson's crazed grin matched by Cullen's own.

"You have stood with me when others have forsaken me." Cullen spun his wrist, releasing the stalemate. He lashed near Samson's legs. Samson jumped over Cullen's swing and stabbed. The weapon collided with Cullen's flesh, slicing a hole in his waist just under where his cuirass sat. Blood seeped into his mantle and trousers and he was thankful that the darker colors masked the quantity.

_Maker, it's a deep wound. Lethal if untreated and Samson knows it._

Fluid movements right to left caused a continual clink to sound in rapid succession. The vibrations reverberated down Cullen's arm. "I have faced armies with you as my shield." With his shield rested on his forearm, Cullen gripped the blade of his sword, locked against Samson. They shifted their weight, pushing and pulling, expecting the other to budge first.

The pain from the wound was sharp and shot up his torso. Cullen lost his footing and fell to his knees.

_I'll not let you best me, not with what's at stake._ Undeterred, Cullen continued. He jerked the sword, slicing Samson's leg. The gash was gnarly, blood spurted and Cullen hoped he hit an artery.

Like a mallet, Samson slammed his weapon down on Cullen, but he continued the passage. "And though I bare scars beyond counting"

Cullen blocked. Swiping his shield, he thwacked Samson's knees and the man collapsed. Samson gasped for breath. Cullen pointed the sword between his eyes and gently pushed as Samson leaned back to lay on the ground.

With the murderer now defenseless, Cullen continued reciting the remaining line of the prayer intended for Evelyn. " _Nothing_ can break me, _except_ your absence."

_"I love you. You know that, right?"_ Her voice was like a cool balm to his burning mind, settling the flare of his rage to a steady flame. It was a voice he would not hear again and the realization made twisted determination take root in his heart. Cullen rested his boot on top of Samson's neck and longed to propel the full force of his weight down upon it, yearning to hear the crunch until it snapped. He wished to relish in the uncharacteristic but bittersweet closure of taking this man's life as it burned out in his eyes.

"She-isn't dead." Samson croaked, desperately. "She lives." The words were breathy and weighted, but he continued. "Give- give me your word. I'll tell you where she is, if you spare me."

_Spare you!? After everything you've done? You possess the nerve to ask for mercy?_ "Lies!" Cullen shouted, disgusted. _Even now, in the face of death, the snake still tries to manipulate his way._

"It's t-true." Samson sputtered, gasping for breath.

Cullen hesitated, his words ringing with just enough desperate truth to make them almost believable. _What if it WAS true?_

Samson struggled. "Give me your word!" The voice was strangled under the pressure of Cullen's boot. Despite his better judgement, if there was even the _slightest_ chance, he had to take it. He _must_ try. With a step back, he withdrew his foot applying pressure from the tip of the sword between Samson's eyebrows and purposefully drew blood. "If this is a trick, you are a dead man. _Of that_ , you have my word."

"There's an elven ruin, one league away from the temple to the west. You'll find her there." Samson insisted. "I-I-promise."

"Clap him in irons and return him to Skyhold for judgement, provided he doesn't make me his executioner in the interim." Cullen declared to the party. "I must depart."

"But Curly, wait," Varric called after, "-your wound!" but Cullen was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good grief guys, I really dislike writing fight scenes. Hopefully this one didn't fall short of your expectations.
> 
> There was just something about Cullen reciting a prayer for Evelyn and speaking to her and the Maker while defeating Samson, as though it gave him some sort of blessed strength that I found appealing. Maybe it was lame, but im going with it, seemed true to character.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Cullen prays Samson was true to his word, he seeks out Evelyn. Will it be everything he hoped for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.

Cullen navigated through the various twists and turns of the uneven terrain. Off the beaten path and around the corner, debris marked the ruins of an elven structure. The weathered stone was all that stood between them, provided Samson was true to his word. His breathing quickened and he picked up the pace.

He found a small structure, seemingly undisturbed by weather over the course of the years. He anticipated guards, a contingent of red Templars - _something-_ but to his surprise, the area was mostly clear.

_Too much fighting elsewhere to have guards stand watch._

Once Samson had been a good man -a good Templar- but their shared past could only carry him so far. The red lyrium and Corypheus had changed him and everything he said dripped with dishonesty. Cullen expected something terrible lie in wait beyond the door. But a part of him, wished so badly for it to be true, for Evie to be alive.

He resumed his earlier mantra. _As long as she was breathing, they could heal her: mind, body, and soul, it didn't matter. If she lived, there was still a chance._

This could easily have been another trick, the last evil act of a desperate man. All the same, he allowed himself the smallest of hopes that Samson _was_ telling the truth. Approaching the door carefully, checking for traps, he tried the handle only to find it locked.

 _A swift and powerful charge may work._ Cullen took forty paces back and braced himself. He inhaled deeply and rolled out his muscles. _This is going to hurt._

Running at full speed, he rushed the door and his shoulder met unrelenting stone. Though his plate absorbed most of the shock and damage, the impact reverberated sending pain shooting down his arm.

He rummaged through his pack, and pulled out the lockpicks he kept on hand. A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he remembered her questioning the necessity.

_Evelyn quirked her eyebrow. "Really Commander, you have lockpicks?"_

_"_ _It isn't my area of expertise, but the idea has merit."_

_This is why I carry them, Evie._

Six of them broke with his attempts. Cullen may have been a fierce warrior, but he was no rogue. Sweat broke across his brow as he focused on what he hoped to be lucky number seven.

After a small jiggle and a gentle turn, a subtle click was heard and the door creaked open, its hinges screaming in protest. Evelyn sat on the bench, the only piece of furniture in the entire building. She was still and faced away from Cullen. He chuckled nervously at the sight of her because if he didn't laugh, he would cry. He was elated to see her alive and he shuddered as relief engulfed him. His lips upturned into a smile and his heart was as light as air.

_I found you as promised and now I will bring you home._

"Evelyn," Cullen whispered, his voice unsteady.

Evie turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling with recognition and unshed tears. She ran to him and he, her. They collided with an embrace so powerful it nearly knocked Cullen off balance. He cradled her head whispering words of comfort and assurances of safety. "I knew you would come for me!"

His hands dwarfed her head as he took a step back, giving her a visual inspection to assess for any bruising, wounds or trauma. The fact that she didn't appear harmed allowed his heart to settle to a wild beat in his chest. She squeezed him tighter. His elbow hooked around her neck as a slew of Chant passages fell from his lips and he pressed a kiss to the middle of her forehead.

"Thank the Maker you're safe."

_Just now, everything was worth fighting for._

Except it _wasn't_.

Like all the world's cruel tricks, this happiness lasted only a moment, a fantasy conjured from the desperate desire for her safety coupled with the effects of lyrium and a substantial loss of blood.

Cullen navigated through the various twists and turns of the uneven terrain. Off the beaten path and around the corner, debris marked the ruins of an elven structure. The weathered stone was all that stood between them, provided Samson was true to his word. His breathing quickened and he picked up the pace. He had to take a moment; cutting a strip of his mantle and tying it around his waist to apply pressure to his wound.

His footsteps crunched leaves beneath his feet and a twig snapped.

Evelyn sat on the bench in the open area, facing away from Cullen. She was still, almost unnaturally so, and his mind flitted to the dark possibility that Samson may have set this up, positioned her to give the illusion of life despite death. Holding his side, slow steps closed the distance. He swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the pain that even the subtlest movements caused.

"Evelyn!"

She turned her head toward the sound of his voice but said nothing. Across the distance he could see how posture had changed- it was stiffer, not allowing for her usual grace- and he knew to his core that something was wrong.

She redirected her attention forward and stood. Evie's long, raven hair was parted to the side with her bangs draped diagonally covering her forehead and half of her right eye. It framed her face and Cullen had always loved the way she peered at him through it. Voluminous curls spanned down her back and around her shoulders. Cullen anticipated a smile, an overdue embrace, the touch of her lips as they crashed against his own. But he didn't get that.

Evelyn walked slowly around the bench with her hands clasped in front of her and stared _through_ him. "Commander Cullen." Her normally melodic voice sounded different. It took a moment for him to understand what it was- a chill, an all too familiar disconnect. A flat tone that she'd never taken with him. It was cold and distant, and his Evie had never been either.

_Both title and name...?_

Thoughts ran rampant, his mind not fully comprehending her odd behavior. Then, as if a candle had been lit, the spark of realization dawned on him as he remembered exactly where he'd heard it before. The same inflection void of emotion. _No._ Cullen's heart stopped. Like the unseen arrow which cut through the night, it skewered him in two. _No!_ He shook his head and staggered backward, clutching his side. His chest constricted and breath escaped his lungs. _Maker, No!_

The wind shifted, blowing her hair away from her face, giving Cullen a glimpse that made his knees buckle, validating his suspicions. Tears overflowed his eyes and spilled down his cheeks in a steady stream as he trembled. He hung his head and silently sobbed into his gloves.

Of all the things he endured to get here, he never truly faltered. Cullen had been the young Templar who stood as the survivor of a circle overrun with abominations. The one who knew what it was to be tormented by demons and watch his friends slaughtered. He, who had stood defiant against a corrupt Knight Commander and fought alongside the Champion of Kirkwall at the beginning of a war. Despite the few triumphs and multiple tragedies he experienced over the course of his life, Cullen never gave up or gave in. Even after all that…

Now, however, was the first time Cullen felt such total, soul-crushing defeat. The horrors of life had finally broken him. As he spread his fingers and looked through the gaps at Evelyn to confirm what he saw had been real, his heart shattered.

He expected a lifeless body but this... this was worse.

The brand stood out; the sunburst stark against the pale skin of her brow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn has finally been found! It should have been cause for celebration, who knew the hard part would begin once Cullen found her?
> 
> Angst is my jam. Do tell me if you enjoyed? Was it overly predictable? I feared such, but it was subtly alluded to in previous chapters.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewind back to the beginning and view the events from Evelyn's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.

It was a _very_ bad day.

Approximately one week ago the war council had convened. The choice was either pursue red templars who, if they got away, would've killed who knows how many people or divert the troops stationed in the area to save the wounded soldiers and a Chantry sister held hostage by Avvar whose only wish was to return home.

The soldiers did their job, they fought and bled under her banner, but Evelyn had left her men to die with no guarantee of the lives that would be saved as a result.

Evelyn remembered what Bull told her back in Haven: _My people don't pick leaders from the strongest, the smartest, or even the most talented. We pick the ones willing to make the hard decisions and live with the consequences._

Cullen said they would understand, but the moment the words passed his lips, she knew they were shit. They were soldiers, it was part of the job but nobody ever anticipated for certain they wouldn't make it out when they signed up. She knew he intentionally had not answered her when she'd asked: "Would _you_ understand?"

But he did understand, Cullen _always_ understood. Never a man to dance around the subject -or at all- Cullen had two default attitudes in the war room, either passionately defend your stance or maintain silence under the guise of professional decorum.

Both of which were sometimes so damn infuriating she couldn't see straight.

He was doing his job. Military strategist and advisor to the Inquisition, he'd given information but despite the professional setting and their agreement to keep the two separate, she _needed_ the personal aspect of Cullen.

Though Evelyn appreciated his respect of her judgments and support even when he disagreed, some days, she simply wanted his genuine opinion on what the fuck she should do. This had been one of those times.

She'd pointed that out. "They're your men too, _you_ condemn them to death." But it was unworthy of her. The situation wasn't his fault and Maker knows that Cullen would blame himself for _everything_ anyway. _He always did._

She wondered if the soldiers still loved the Inquisitor, the infamous Herald of Andraste, upon their deaths. Did they curse her name in their final moments? Scream why to the Maker? Cry over the parchment as they wrote their final goodbyes? No matter what good she accomplished, she couldn't ever erase that.

This morning, she'd spent hours in hers and Cullen's quarters, hunched over the desk writing apology letters to each soldier's family, thanking them for their service to the Inquisition, and sent messengers along with substantial amounts of coin from her own salary -in addition to what the Inquisition provided- to compensate them.

Though it seemed utterly disrespectful and in bad taste considering she gave the order which caused their demise, it was routine for any other death under the banner. _They deserved no less._

What she really needed was to hit something, to train, to distract her mind from her own misery but every companion she sought out-save Dorian, who droned on for hours about himself and made sure to tell her before she left how she owed him a thank you- had been busy with their own workload. Which should have been expected, considering the time, energy, and sleep Cullen had sacrificed over the past weeks in regards to the Arbor Wilds initiatives.

Evelyn stopped by his office, but he was debriefing his men, and she would've been working too, had she not been avoiding writing. After a quick kiss and a few parting words, she ventured to the larder. The cook knew why Evie was there and already had a tray of lunch prepared and a servant ready to deliver it to Cullen.

As she was leaving, she was approached by a templar. She didn't recognize him, but her position kept her from knowing every man under her service.

"Inquisitor!" He saluted. "I'm so glad I found you. Someone has broken into the lyrium stores. We were going to inform the Commander, but he requested not to be disturbed unless it was dire. Plus, we weren't certain if it was the best course of action for him to count inventory given his-" the templar cleared his throat, "lifestyle choices."

At this point, nearly all of the Inquisition was aware that Cullen no longer took lyrium. He set the example for those who wanted to follow suit. Proof indeed, the man was capable of what was otherwise deemed impossible. There really would be no need for Cullen to investigate personally, to even lay the temptation at his feet. He'd done so well, but even still, Evelyn knew how he struggled.

"At ease, soldier." Out of respect, Evelyn returned the salute. "That was a wise decision. Has Knight Captain Rylen been informed?"

"He and the Commander had a meeting scheduled after the debriefing to discuss his mission in Griffon Wing."

 _Which they're probably in now._ "I'll investigate in his stead." Evelyn motioned with her hand. "Lead the way."

It didn't make sense. The lyrium was stored in a vault- similar to the one in the basement- but only the advisors, Rylen and two additional officers, determined by Cullen, had authorization for access. The combination wasn't public knowledge and even the soldiers stationed to guard it didn't possess that information. She followed the recruit through the corridor and into the Senior Officers quarters to the lyrium vault. The vault itself appeared to be undamaged and was currently closed but no guards were present.

"How did they-"

Before she knew it, a cloth covered her mouth and nose and an elbow locked around her throat. She focused on her breathing but managed only muffled grunts and cries. It sounded like someone was speaking to her, but she couldn't discern it over her heart pounding in her ears. The torches along the wall appeared to flicker and she wasn't certain if that was because they were being snuffed out or if her mind had played tricks on her. The aroma of lotus essence filled her nostrils and she blinked, eyes watering from being overwhelmed. The waxy substance that stuck to her face made her cringe. She attempted to stop her attacker by clawing at the arm firmly fixed around her neck to no avail. As Evelyn struggled, spots speckled her vision before the world went black.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.
> 
> Apologies for the delay, I generally post updates on Monday, but we had a big snow storm and went without power for nearly a full day. Hopefully, the wait was worth it.
> 
> I will say this was one of my favorite chapters in this story. Do let me know what you thought.

Evelyn awoke to confusion and chaos. Two fully armed and armored Templars forced her from a cloth-covered supply cart. Her limbs felt weighted and she stretched out her muscles eliciting numerous pops and cracks to find her hands bound by rope. She reached for her sword to fight, but the knot was unrelenting and her weapon absent. Fingers scraped across the emblazoned templar insignia on her bracer. It was a symbol she knew instantly. Cullen, despite no longer being of the Order, still donned an identical set, even as Commander of the Inquisition.

_Why am I wearing Templar armor?_

Evelyn never became a templar, though it was the path laid out by her family's expectations. She never took the oath, swore allegiances, or drank lyrium. Even when she had the opportunity as Inquisitor to learn the ways of the Templar, she couldn't. After seeing what lyrium did to Cullen, there was no way she'd ever touch the shit and they weren't even together then. She couldn't be a hypocrite and tell him to stop only for her to start.

She squinted, trying to remember what happened before she woke up in this predicament. Vague shadows and lotus essence crept through the fog, but it was if she had pieces to an incomplete puzzle and couldn't force them to fit. Her mind hazed and the more she tried to recover, the further the memory slipped away.

Snow blanketed the area; a sign they hadn't traveled far. She suspected they were still within the Frostbacks, but couldn't identify where. With the mountains and the vast nothingness surrounding her, there weren't any markers to indicate location like an official road.

Evelyn was pushed towards a stump and told to sit. The Templar, presumably the leader based on how he delegated orders, approached her with a quill, ink and parchment affixed to a clipboard. _Who gave this man authority?_

"Write your resignation." With a calm and clear tone, he issued his order. Discolored teeth visible through a small slit in his helmet as he flashed a manipulative smile.

"Why?" Evelyn demanded as if he owed her answers. Clearly, he knew his hostage and seemed undeterred. A thought both terrifying and confusing. She refused to show fear and plastered stoicism on her features, trying to remain calm despite the drugs that made her mind hazy and frantic.

Without hesitation, he backhanded her, the sting of his metal gauntlets coupled with the chill of the air prominent on her cheek. "Disobedience will not be tolerated."

Liquid trickled down her face. Her mouth filled with the substance as she spat saliva darkened by blood at his feet. "Once the Commander finds out about this-"

An evil chuckle escaped the Templar's lips. "The Commander will congratulate us on a job well done." Despite his slow pace, confidence radiated in each step, Inquisition parchment rolled up in his right hand, identifiable by its red wax seal. "Who do you think put you here?" Clearing his throat, he mimicked Culled by deepening his voice. "The Inquisition needs to impede the advance of Samson and Corypheus. You possess sanction to use any means necessary to ensure it."

"I doubt this is what he meant." Evelyn insisted, quirking an eyebrow, or trying to, she wasn't certain if she was successful. Having lost feeling and full control over her body, it became a challenge to articulate with body language appropriate responses while the tingling was prevalent. "He would never-"

"Take a look for yourself." The Templar unrolled the parchment and without a doubt, Cullen's signature was plastered at the bottom of the letter. She recognized the tall cursive loops of the L's in Cullen and the meshed together M's in his title immediately.

"Why would he put me here?" Evelyn shook her head, it didn't make sense. Cullen wouldn't abduct or take her to a remote location, all he would have needed to do was ask and she would have accompanied him anywhere.

"Our Commander was so disgusted and enraged, he struggled to keep the words from bleeding through. The soldiers you let die were his men. He trained most of them in Haven. You, Lady Inquisitor, left them. You think he would forgive you for that?"

Evelyn thought back to that day, how she pleaded with him. Tried to communicate with her eyes across the war table- tell me what to do. _Would you understand?_ He hadn't answered and said nothing further. _That's why._ He expected her to make the right choice, and she didn't. _No._ Evelyn scolded herself. _He wouldn't. He couldn't!_

"Foolish girl. Have you ever known the Commander to mix professional and personal? He had to maintain the charade."

Evelyn mulled over every word, taking longer than normal to comprehend. If Cullen was angry at her, why hadn't he said? "What do you mean charade?" It was a question, but came out as a demand, her patience dwindling in present company though she had no choice but to endure.

With an amused smirk, the Leader continued. "Why do you think the Commander waited until now to exact revenge? Most of the rifts are closed and the breach is sealed, you are no longer needed."

"Revenge?" Evelyn asked, incredulous.

"You were the cause behind the conclave explosion. Many templars died there: the Commander's friends, his brothers, his superiors. Cullen was certain of your guilt, even then, and devised this plan in Haven."

Evelyn said nothing, allowing rage to fuel her hatred. Pooling the magic in her arm to prepare the mark didn't work; whatever they gave her weighed heavily and she struggled to move. When she tried to use it, it crackled a small arch of green lightning and fizzled out.

"Becoming involved with you was his idea. What better way to crumble the Inquisitor than to wait for the organization you built to become operational without your presence while breaking your heart? Who else is meticulous enough to account for every obstacle, strategic enough to wait for the _precise_ moment?"

 _This man is a liar, a snake. Cullen wasn't responsible._ He couldn't be, it would war with everything she knew. The person she spent time with, bedded, loved. _No._ A ragged breath escaped her. _Then again, Cullen was intelligent, more than capable..._

"Why do you think he was so insistent- even after the events that took place in Val Royeaux- the Templars would aid? When you left to align with the mages, it posed a minor problem, but the Commander had already sent word and ensured the Inquisition became home to any of his colleagues from Kirkwall and Starkhaven. Little convincing was necessary for Cullen to secure assistance. They were eager to avenge the death of their brethren and were already en route to Haven before you left for Redcliffe. You didn't even notice the influx of Templars in your ranks."

Shaking her head, Evelyn glared at the man. His logic was sound, sowing the seeds of doubt within her heart. "But the conclave happened before we even knew of Corypheus and his plot."

"Corypheus only helped matters further, he provided a welcome distraction and efforts against earned your trust. Supporting the fabled Herald of Andraste was a tactic to keep his biggest enemy close at hand. When you became Inquisitor, he knew he could further use the influence as your advisor and lover to manipulate you, without you knowing you were being manipulated. Brilliant."

"No, Cullen wanted to stop Corypheus." If Evelyn could muster the strength, she would have charged the leader, fighting fist for fist, but her appendages remained heavy and movement hindered. "They need me."

"The Elder One no longer has his demons or Wardens, most of the red Templar army fell under the avalanche, and you avoided chaos by keeping the Empress alive. All of Corypheus' plans failed. The only thing left for the Inquisition to do is find and capture him as the Wardens did so long ago and they didn't need the mark."

 _It was meticulous, brilliant, so much so that she wondered if the leader was correct. Had Cullen implemented the ultimate betrayal?_ "How do you know all of this?" Evelyn sputtered, trying to contain the loathing bubbling inside.

"Remember the day the Commander told you about how he was recruited by Cassandra in Kirkwall? Moments before you arrived, he was talking about not preparing the recruits for a practice fight, but a real one. I'm the Lieutenant with whom he spoke. I've been here since the start and it is my pleasure to turn you over, betraying you as you did my comrades. Leaving them to their deaths..." The Lieutenant scoffed. "If you are no longer Inquisitor, we have assurance you cannot do the same to us. Your removal guarantees our survival."

Evelyn's chest felt heavy and she struggled to see and breathe. Her heart shattered as she realized everything the Templar said, had happened. Set up from the beginning to play her as a fool; she walked right into it, none the wiser. Her lips quivered; the tears stung. She felt ridiculous for even shedding a single one over the matter, for being duped like a young child. She'd been naïve and stupid when she should have been ruthless and uncaring. People who didn't care didn't get hurt. _I thought Cullen loved me._ Her mind raced through everything that happened and those small inconsistencies clicked in place. The why behind it all became clear.

_Not only did Cullen suggest I recruit the Templars, but he planned on Envy, the demon Bull's Chargers tracked and killed. If I had gone, it could have overtaken me. If the Templars had to do their duty, well, it was all in a day's' work. When I recruited the mages instead, he had to make do with the Templars he'd already sent word to._

_When his plot to send me to Theirinfal failed, Cullen let me march out of Haven's Chantry, knowing full well the avalanche would be my death or the dragon, if it looked like a mishap he'd get his revenge without ever getting his hands dirty._

_Finding me after Haven was sheer accident. He would have to coordinate a search for stragglers to avoid suspicion. He never expected I'd be alive. When he carried me to camp, it was only to maintain cover in front of Cassandra and the soldiers._

_Informing me of the lyrium was to garner sympathy. Who knows if it's even true._

_The chess game tested my ability to strategize-would I be smart enough to discover his betrayal?_

_He told Cassandra he would resign to see if I cared enough to stop him, for personal or professional reasons, perhaps both. Throwing the box and punching the bookshelf was all an act._

_Cullen was angry at Jim for interrupting our walk because it could have interfered with his plan to seduce me._

_It was only a coin. Not the memento he claimed. A simple coin he used to mock me._

_"Rylen's men will monitor the situation. In the meantime, we'll send soldiers to-" The first night we slept together, he'd seen me, cut off mid-sentence and changed what he was going to say. "-assist with the relief efforts." When I got too close to the desk, he didn't want me to glimpse any of the papers regarding his plan, that's why he cleared it off._

_Even his debriefing and meeting with Rylen had been deliberate. A way to give him an alibi supported by multiple soldiers who saw him performing his duties. He'd delegated access to the vault and knew I wouldn't leave him to investigate alone, giving his men opportunity to carry out his orders to abduct me._

_Maker._ All of it was a lie.  
  
The man nodded as if reading her thoughts, a small smile on his face. "You understand now. Good. Write the resignation."

Evelyn tried to see under the helmet to confirm recognition. If she would be coerced into resigning, perhaps she could name her captor for Leliana. But what she could see of him, which was only the beady black eyes underneath the crossed slit of a standard templar helmet, a pointed nose, and a portion of his mouth, she wasn't able to place a name to the face. The most she knew was his title of Lieutenant but the Inquisition had multiple. There would be no way she could address the letter to Cullen, not when he was the mastermind, so she would have to leave it encoded to let them know what was going on.

"Don't even bother to send for help. The letter will be reviewed before it's planted." The Templar warned.

With a nod, Evelyn put the quill to parchment. Holding it was a chore and the clipboard resting against her legs seemed to weigh fifty pounds, but she mustered the strength fighting her body's reluctance and mind's haze. If this was her only shot to alert the Inquisition; there was no other option. She encoded her message by using the next word in every sentence. A task much more difficult than she had expected, but she succeeded despite her handwriting appearing slanted. Once complete, it read: _Please send help. Captured by Templars. Inquisition has traitors._

Evelyn hated the line regarding traitors, it still didn't sound correct, and could draw suspicion but she prayed to the Maker her captors wouldn't catch on. Her time to stall had been running out and if she waited any longer, she may have ended up without any message instead of an imperfect one. Evelyn indicated the impostor in question by the tenth word in the last sentence before her instruction.

For good measure, she used the rotten bastard's title, because if she so much as wrote his name, she would break down.

 _Lastly, a matter of a personal nature, tell the_ _**Commander**_ _that we're through. I've read between the lines and seen the truth._

Hoping the inner circle could one day see beyond her grave error in judgment regarding trusting the wrong man and compromising the Inquisition, she requested forgiveness and signed her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kid you not when I say that the stars aligned with canon to make this one happen. When I first started this fic, I hadn't planned this bit exactly, but as the story progressed, everything fell in place to make Cullen the bad guy here. Ergo, that's exactly what happened. Every canon action and scene was able to be misconstrued by perspective to seem deceptive, so I played on that because it just worked perfectly.
> 
> As we know from Cullen's perspective, the Lieutenant is lying his ass off, but Evelyn doesn't know that and she isn't of sound mind at the moment...
> 
> I debated reinserting the letter, but opted not to. Should you wish to compare for whatever reason, the letter was written as follows.
> 
> Inquisition,  
> Please accept this letter as my formal resignation. I  
> will send for my personal items once I am settled. I am certain that the  
> Spymaster will help to locate me, so i’ll inform you of my destination. It is challenging to ensure  
> reasoning is accurately captured in a mere  
> letter, however it is by my own volition, that I  
> return to ostwick. With the Templars  
> gone and no longer needing the Inquisition to protect me from  
> those confident of my guilt, the time has come to say goodbye. As thanks for my efforts,  
> please refrain from branding me one of many traitors.  
> Lastly, a matter of a personal nature, tell the Commander that we’re through. I’ve read between the lines and seen the truth.  
> Forgive me,  
> Evelyn Trevelyan.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.

The moment she finished writing the letter, they forced a tincture down Evelyn's throat and shoved her back into the horse-drawn, cloth covered supply cart.

"Don't worry, it won't kill you. It is a combination of Hale's Dust, Blood Lotus, and water." The leader advised. "Something to keep you subdued and as I understand it, Blood lotus is known for its hallucinatory effects. Best not to try to talk, or move, wouldn't want to deliver damaged goods, would we?"

_Deliver_ _me? To whom?_

She assumed it was the same mixture they spread on the cloth to abduct her initially, but she couldn't be certain because previously, she hadn't ingested it. This felt much more powerful, as though she was trapped within her own mind and body, unable to move and left only with her thoughts.

After roughly an hour of traveling -or at least what she estimated to be an hour- through the Frostbacks they stopped for a short reprieve at an abandoned cabin which- to her surprise- was still standing despite the destruction of Haven. Evelyn remembered it, vaguely as one she passed with Cassandra as they headed to seal the breach. Due to Evelyn's current state, she was carried inside. Considering men were her captors, they were gentle in the removal of her armor and immediately replaced it with Chantry robes that matched theirs. None attempted to assault her in any way, which she was grateful for as she couldn't have fought them off had they tried.

_Fuck. I told them in the letter to look for Templars, not Chantry brothers and sisters. They'll be searching in the wrong place; investigating the wrong people. With everyone marching to the Arbor Wilds, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary to see Chantry personnel making a long journey with multiple supply carts. Nobody would think twice to check servants of faith enroute to give soldiers prayer before battle. They won't find me._

They departed again as quickly as they'd arrived and she was carried back out to the cloth covered supply cart, except this time, they had new mounts and she assumed that the men who sat in the second cart were those that rode the horses there.

_There would be no need to camp for the night if they switched mounts and swapped personnel every time they stopped. Cullen had thought of everything._

The full effects of the tincture began to kick in, and Evelyn felt a strange tickle along her skin, as if a thousand ants were crawling over it. The cloth-covered cart shrunk around her, choking the air from her chest with its vice-like grip. Knowing it was the drug, she closed her eyes tightly, desperately praying for the oblivion of sleep. But the drug had been chosen well: it kept from her sleeping deeply, making her seldom able to dream. When she wasn't dozing fitfully, she was tormented by hallucinations that made a mockery of the past- a world where Cullen truly loved her as he'd said he had.

Maker, it hurt. In her rare moments of lucidity she had no other choice but to lay there, completely still and wallow in self pity. His betrayal burned in her chest like a gaping wound, her foolishness salting it heavily. She'd bought into everything he'd ever said, believed every lie hidden behind a shy smile. The sweet gestures, the sentimental stories, and simultaneously felt both white hot rage and agonizing devastation.

Tears filled her eyes but Evelyn could hardly blink to send them down her cheek. Trying to lean her head to her right, they finally spilled naturally from the corners. She could hear her captors talking, though it was difficult to discern. Muffled voices were replaced by guttural sounds and distorted noises. The effects of the drug would come and go, offering false relief before surging back to the surface. In her haze, she clung to the familiar names she knew- Sahrnia and the Emerald Graves.

At least if she knew where she was going, she could possibly get a message to Solas, provided the Fade was reachable. Though it would be difficult, the tincture hindered both her mark and her body. After an unknown length of time, they halted, pausing long enough to administer more of the mixture into her system and allow her to relieve herself -with assistance- before switching personnel and mounts.

Evelyn thought she saw her elven friend, but it could have been an illusion brought on by desperation and fear. The area was bathed in green and by all accounts, resembled the Fade as far as she could remember. Her tongue was a weight, preventing her from speaking normally.

She knew what she wanted to tell Solas-that she was heavily drugged and traveling to Sarhnia- but she wasn't in control. Every syllable had to be wrestled from behind her teeth, often coming out choked gibberish and inaccurate.

"Up is down and dark is light."

_Would Solas understand about the red lyrium? Was he with me when we travelled there?_

_Lyrium, lyrium, lyrium._

The word wrecked havoc on her mind. The red reminded her of the blue. The Mages and Templars were always fighting over it, but she couldn't distinguish fact from fiction.

"Whose is it?" She asked herself, her voice high-pitched and cracking. She shook her head, knowing the question was wrong and tried to find the right place where the lyrium grew. "Mine."

She frowned, slapping a hand to her forehead in frustration. "No, not mine."

_What word? Mine...hole...stone...Sahrnia?_ "So cold."

Solas stared, pity on his features. He spoke, but Evelyn couldn't hear him as if she were underwater. _Who has me?_ She wondered, trying to remember the title as she still didn't dare to speak Cullen's name. All she saw was a symbol etched into armor referring to familiar vambraces. "A sword in flames."

She looked back to Solas, hoping he was really there, and could hear her broken message, but everything faded and blurred until she stared at the white colored cloth draped over the supply cart once again.

With no other options, she had to allow the drug to work its way through her system. Wreaking havoc on her body and mind, tearing her apart within her soul.

_Evelyn dabbed Cullen's forehead with a damp cloth, wiping the sweat of the nightmare away. Truthfully, he hadn't needed her for at least a week now, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. She'd liked being there for him and once he finally shared all of his struggles with her, she admired him more for it._

_In reality, he never needed her at all; he was more than capable of handling his demons on his own, as he had for many years before they'd even met. Yet, something changed for her and though she couldn't pinpoint when, it stopped being professional and became personal._

_Dangerously personal. In ways which were vastly inappropriate. In ways she could never express other than by tending to him. So that's what she did._

_Even though contingents of the inner circle were assisting with various quests within Thedas while she saw to Cullen's health, she remained in Skyhold. Tonight would be her last night before she needed to leave for the Hissing Wastes, which she could no longer put off. Evelyn spoke to him, not as her advisor, but as a friend and told him everything she wouldn't otherwise dare say aloud as he dreamt._

_"_ _I hope you know that you are impossible and insufferable." Evelyn chuckled moving the sheet to his chest. "Impossibly insufferable." She amended. "We disagree, often. Over your ridiculously long lectures, your insistence to plan things down to the most miniscule of details- seriously Cullen, nobody can be THAT prepared for everything- your awful habit of working nonstop, the continual trebuchet calibrating, and your overall need to lighten up. But I know I could never tell you another way so this will have to do." She inhaled a sharp breath. Even with him sleeping soundly, this was harder than anticipated. "I will miss it, you know, when I'm not here." She thought better of her words and corrected. "You. I will miss you when I'm not here. Despite all of your... quirks, yeah-" Evelyn nodded, "we'll call them quirks. Although I'm certain you're just itching to tell me how to say that laced with professional decorum."_

_"_ _I am an idiot." Evelyn chided herself, shaking her head and returning her attention to Cullen. "Look, I wanted to tell you that despite all that insufferable impossible-ness, you are the finest man I've ever known and I… I care about you. Even with all the preposterous stuff you do. I guess my point is well, just don't stop doing them."_

_Evelyn squeezed his hand and stood before heading to the ladder to leave._

_"_ _Idiosyncrasies or peculiarities." Cullen's voice stopped her in her tracks._

_"_ _What?" She asked, looking behind her._

_"_ _The alternative options for quirks," Cullen cleared his throat, "laced with professional decorum." He sat up on the bed and repeated. "Idiosyncrasies or peculiarities, as requested."_

_Evelyn turned, cocked her head and raised her eyebrows._

_"_ _You truly think my lectures are -as you said- ridiculously long?" He smirked._

_"_ _That was what caught your attention?" Evelyn scoffed playfully. "Good night, Cullen."_

_"_ _Good night, Evelyn." Cullen smiled before leaning back against the pillow with a soft sigh._

_It was the first time he'd used her name, not her title. The flutter in her chest spread warmth and she rolled her shoulders as if to shake away the silliness of the conversation, pretending she wasn't practically walking on air._

If Evelyn could manage to twist her muscles, she would have sneered at the memory, disgusted with herself for thinking of it fondly. Not that it mattered. Not that any of it had mattered. It was all a lie, a cruel manipulation, a way to get back at her for the horrible things that happened since she arrived at the Conclave.

_Cullen knew exactly what he was doing. And you, you were stupid enough to believe that the only person who mattered was you. You should have known better._

Time. There was an abundance of it. Neither being able to move nor speak allowed her to stew within the vortex of her own emotions. A part of her desperately wanted the Lieutenant's words to be a lie, whereas the other half gave them credence. It all made sense, each memory, every dual meaning, Cullen was nothing if not calculating and meticulous. He had an eye for detail which surpassed others. It's what made him a superior General.

And a master manipulator.

Evelyn had never understood the how someone could die of heartbreak, but now it was crystal clear. Her inner turmoil seemed to manifest into physical pain. Her chest was being crushed and breathing was a chore. Evelyn's body reacted as though she'd been impaled by his sword, the Silverite blade piercing her flesh, sliced clean though her inner organs, and pinned to the supply cart. Every muscle ached and the Chantry robes were as heavy as the full plate Templar armor had been.

_"_ _I've something for you." Cullen pushed open the door to the undercroft and held until Evelyn was inside. He stepped alongside her and gestured to the table._

_The shield gleamed in the torch light. Silverite and Bloodstone combined made the metal glare with a red hue. Emblazoned on the front was the insignia of the Trevelyan house with the motto etched along the side. Modest in temper, bold in deed._

_Evelyn pressed her fingertips to it, feeling the smooth indentations and noted the careful craftsmanship that went into making every detail perfect._

_"_ _It's…" her mouth gaped as she struggled to find sufficient words._

_"_ _Sometimes even the most unexpected foe can pose the greatest challenge. Best to be prepared. Wouldn't want you caught off guard." Cullen's tone was neutral as though explaining direction, with a soft undertone absent of command._

Evelyn stifled a groan and if she could have, would have smacked herself in the forehead. He was referring to himself. She argued with herself. There was no mistaking the love and adoration when Cullen thought Evelyn was near death after the dragon attack.

_Evelyn stared at the ceiling as the surgeon checked her wound. It was an abdominal gash, courtesy of the tooth of a high dragon. Though he missed biting her completely-thank the Maker- it still caused quite the laceration._

_"Where is she!?" Cullen's voice boomed from outside the infirmary._

_"_ _Now Commander, it wouldn't do for such a display, think of what people might think." Josie said in a pacifying tone._

_"_ _The Inquisitor is in the infirmary, Ser. She's being evaluated now. It may be best to wait, Commander." Evelyn heard the soldier on guard warn._

_"_ _Maker's blood man, move or I will move you!" Cullen declared, rushing in the door. "Evie!"_

_The nickname elicited a few nervous coughs from Dorian and a disgusted noise from Cassandra. Cullen quickly corrected. "I mean, Inquisitor," he cleared his throat. "You're all right." Cullen's hand flew to his neck and his cheeks turned pink before sighing in relief._

Evelyn shook her head as the memory faded. No. That was genuine concern, there's no way it was fake. Cullen was worried.

The war continued to rage attempting to filter out what was and wasn't real versus what couldn't be. With every positive memory, the hope that the Lieutenant had lied increased but only provided further devastation considering the cold, calculated precision of Cullen's plan, and the great lengths he went to in order to keep his involvement concealed.

Evelyn had no idea how long she'd been jostled to and fro by the supply cart, but finally her mind allowed a reprieve to slip back into the Fade for momentary bliss. She thought she saw Solas again and wondered why the hallucinogens would conjure him. The words returned as incoherent babbles. We are leaving Sahrnia for the Graves. Snow and red lyrium are left behind as we approach the forest. Which somehow turned into "Life isn't red, but green... no more frozen water assaults."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.

_Evelyn woke to the cloth ripped off the supply cart and the sun beating down, hot on her face. "Evie." Cullen softly stroked her cheek. "Sweetheart, look at me. Are you all right?"_

_She squinted, his golden hair matched the sun and she offered a dazed smile. "Cullen!" she gasped in relief._

_"Thank the Maker." With ease, Cullen lifted her into his arms and she snuggled close, pressing her nose into the fur of his mantle. The scent of oakmoss, elderberries, and armor wax soothed her._

_Carrying Evelyn to Silverite, Cullen helped her into the saddle. As he settled behind, she relaxed, shifting her weight before leaning against his chest._   
_  
"I knew you would come for me."_

_"_ _Did you now?" Cullen whispered, tickling her ear._

_The cool metal of the dagger pressed against Evelyn's neck. She froze, limbs rigid and stricken with fear as Cullen's free hand tangled within her hair. Grabbing a fistful, he yanked back. "I've wanted to do this for longer than I should admit." He hissed and a chill ran down her spine. With a swift motion, he ran the blade across. Evelyn clutched at her throat, trying to apply pressure to the wound as he jerked his arm down and she plopped off the horse._

_The tumble to the ground caused the blood to spurt and Evelyn couldn't even gasp for air. She struggled, shuddering at the sudden cold, like ice penetrating her veins. Crimson liquid stained her clothes and hands coating the grass. Amber eyes which were once filled with such warmth blazed through her, staring with malice as the scar she loved tugged his lips into a lopsided but spiteful smirk._

_Evelyn hoped that the hatred she bore him in her last moments would be enough to haunt him for all of his days._

_There was no longer any doubt: Cullen was an evil man._

Forcibly removed from the cart which had become her bed, she was pulled and pushed toward the site of a camp within the Emerald Graves. A swift kick to the back of her knee caused it to buckle and she fell forward in a kneeling position before the man in question: Samson.

"What do we have here?" Samson said, his voice taking on a childish sing-song quality before his brow lifted, an expression mixed with confusion and delight. "Why, Inquisitor. What an _unexpected_ surprise."

_He wasn't expecting me?_

Evelyn thought for certain Cullen and the Lieutenant had arranged something with Samson the entire time. Perhaps it was her being presumptuous. After the number of attempts where Cullen tried to manipulate situations which still resulted in her escaping, maybe he didn't want to promise her to Samson and not deliver as expected. Cullen had always prided himself on being a man of his word.

"What is this?" Samson asked Lieutenant, another kick followed, this time to Evelyn's side. A groan escaped her lips. Perhaps she should have provided a different reaction, as Samson looked displeased at the nonchalance. Because of the drugs, her movements were still hindered and body partially numb; she couldn't have put on a show had she wished to.

"A peace offering for you, to handle however you see fit."

"I warn you, if this is a trick…" Samson started.

"No tricks." Lieutenant insisted. "A gift. We hand the Inquisitor to you as both revenge and justice. By turning her over, we ensure our deaths do not come at her hands and she pays the price. You demand loyalty from your men but earn it as well. Do with her as you wish, Commander's Orders."

"An interesting revelation, so Cullen finally stopped jumping at his shadow and joined the right side of the fight." Samson tapped his fingers against his chin, his attention turning and examining Evelyn as he spoke. "If I give you to Corypheus, he may use you to open the Fade, force you to use the mark, meaning I am no longer his chosen vessel and the Well of Sorrows wouldn't be needed."

"But it also means I would no longer be needed." Samson paced, his boots caked with more mud on each pass. Silence filled the space, blanketing it like a dense fog before he continued. "If I eliminate the threat. I still remain his vessel and you are of no concern. I can fulfill my greater purpose."

Samson stopped, garnering Evelyn's full attention. "I can send you back to the Inquisition, anchorless, armless, and pumped full of red lyrium where you become my best soldier, helping to dismantle it from the inside out."

Evelyn blinked and her eyes grew wide; processing his words.

"No worries, you will be complicit. Once you hear the song, it cannot be stopped. You will seek me out for more, given that you've destroyed nearly all the supply except for what I possess."

"Or, because I am a generous man," Samson smirked, his lips exposing discolored teeth, "I'll allow you to keep your arm at the cost of your mind. Though you're no mage, the Rite of Tranquility should render the mark useless and you can be free, never a threat to anyone or anything again." With a maniacal laugh, he gestured to Evelyn. "Both seem like reasonable options to me. So Inquisitor, which would you prefer?"

 _Become a red lyrium monster and tear down everything I've helped build?  
Turn on the Inquisition and betray my friends, the ones who fought for me, who nearly died saving me on numerous occasions…  
I'd be no better than Cullen. _  
_Or, breathe, with no quality of life. The only person who would lose out is me._  
But, once it's over, I wouldn't even care.

During one of their conversations, Cullen told her: "I nearly lost my mind once, it is no gift." Perhaps it was deliberate, knowing it would come to this. When she turned on the Inquisition, Cullen could put her down in front of everyone. A grand spectacle killing the red lyrium infected Inquisitor.

Then again, maybe Cullen said so, _wanting_ her to pick tranquility. A mind game, stating the opposite to ensure she would _do_ the opposite, choosing the intended path. It is often repeated tranquility is a fate worse than death.

However, it seemed doubtful. The Lieutenant was clear Cullen wanted her dead, not tranquil. It would be far more gratifying to have a public execution. Cullen probably assumed Samson would bring her to Corypheus, branding herself a traitor and upon arriving at the Arbor Wilds for the Inquisition to stop Samson, Cullen would kill her there. After all, it wasn't often the Commander departed Skyhold. Only a substantial reason would cause him to leave. _Who really knew the truth?_

Contemplating those words, she mulled over the possibilities; seeing the silver lining of the situation.

_"It is no gift." Cullen's voice repeated._

_But what if, it was?_  
To not have to feel the pain or the hurt over the man who crushed my soul?  
To have the ability to look at him with neither love nor hatred.  
To completely remove myself from the discomfort and sheer heartbreak returning to our empty quarters in Skyhold would be?  
To see Cullen Rutherford and be completely indifferent about everything that ever happened?  
To erase him so completely from my life?  
All the while, simultaneously ruin his master plan.

_How WASN'T it a gift?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So she chose Tranquility. Did you see that one coming?
> 
> Returning to Cullen's point of view next week.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.

The sunshine illuminated the clearing outside the ruins of an old elven temple. The weather mocked Cullen, in great contrast to what in reality was a dark and dreary day. Guilt settled like a stone in his stomach and he rubbed his eyes, praying that when he opened them, things would not be as they are. Evelyn would be here, safe, sound, and normal. But it wasn't so. "Commander—" Dorian rushed to him, tugging to pull Cullen from his knees. Cullen stayed still, not paying any heed, eyes fixated on the ground. He wanted to voice the situation, warn Dorian, but he couldn't bring himself to muster a single syllable. To even address it would only lend credence to its truth, and Cullen couldn't accept that.

"Altus Pavus." Evelyn nodded to Dorian. Her normally melodic tone was absent, grating against Cullen's ears. Dorian's attention snapped up to her and Cullen watched still in silence. He pulled at the cloth of Dorian's robes from where he knelt, trying to physically indicate words he couldn't speak; Dorian walked forward towards Evelyn despite Cullen's protests.

Dorian's cheery cry of "Ev!" quickly died as he saw the sunburst brand. He moved her bangs to the side and Cullen watched dread visibly overtake him as he hunched his shoulders. "Oh, Ev." He used the wall of the ruin to maintain his balance, his face dropped into a frown, stricken as if he had taken a blow.

Never in all his days, did Cullen believe Dorian was capable of breaking, but this too, tore him to pieces. He sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye before addressing Evelyn. "Ev, my dear, sweet, Ev." Dorian's voice cracked. "I will find some way to help you. I promise you this." He planted a kiss to her cheek. "I promise you this, Ev."

"I do not require assistance. The Commander may. It appears that he is bleeding." Evelyn stated. "Shall I seek bandages?" "No." Dorian waved his hand dismissively. "I will heal him."

"You cannot heal me," Cullen whispered, the breeze chilling the tears slowly streaming down his cheeks. "Not where it matters."

Despite the protest, Dorian turned his attention to Cullen and began to mend his wound. An iridescent blue hue emanated from Dorian's hands as he motioned in small circles over the affected area; knitting flesh together and leaving a purple and green bruise. "It isn't my prettiest piece, but the root of the wound has been closed," Dorian announced, tugging the mantle back down. "The rest of it will occur naturally with time."

Cullen swallowed thickly, rising to his feet with Dorian's assistance; using the mage to balance himself. "Time can't heal it either." Cullen began to pace, thoughts running rampant within his mind. The lingering hurt piercing Cullen's heart like a stab wound; it left a hole. As he ran through his previous conversation with Samson, the void filled with vengeance, white-hot venomous rage that seethed with every beat and pumped through Cullen's veins like a disease. _Samson is a dead man. He said she was alive! This is worse than death. There's no cure for tranquility._ Cullen's pacing came to an abrupt halt. In frustration, he tousled his hair with his hands before smoothing it out and turned on his heel. "Do not let her out of your sight." He ordered Dorian. "There is something I must do."

Samson was clasped in irons as Bull and Varric escorted him along the dirt road back to the Inquisition's main camp. Other than the beaten path, trees shrouded the area blocking out the sun as they passed through the woodland and flora within the Arbor Wilds. He shuffled his feet, dragging them, forcing Bull and Varric to carry the brunt of his weight. Despite his predicament, he hummed a jovial tune.

Cullen stormed towards Samson, eyes narrowed in rage. Upon seeing him, Varric nearly cheered, "Curly!" before his expression reflected Cullen's own, worry settling in his features.

"Did you find the Boss?" Bull inquired with concern.

Cullen ignored them both, his sights exclusively set on Samson. _You._ Targeting him, a push to the chest caused Varric and Bull to instinctively release. Samson would have toppled to the ground had Cullen not caught him by the shirt and thrust him back with force again, giving little care to Samson's wellbeing. _You will die, by my hands._

"I take it he found her, Tiny," Varric murmured, side-eying the Iron Bull, "and it wasn't griffons and rainbows."

Samson staggered back and Cullen grabbed him by two fistfuls of his tunic fabric lifting him off the ground, holding him suspended in front of a nearby tree. "You gave your word, Commander." Samson raised his hands in mock surrender, an expression of annoyance on his dirtied features.

"You said she lived." Cullen snarled, eyes locked on Samsons'. "She breathes! She isn't dead!" Samson insisted. A burst of laughter only added to Cullen's determination. The man knew exactly what Cullen would find upon arrival.

"You can't be serious! You know as well as I, Tranquility is not life." Cullen spat.

"You did what!?" Bull interjected, reaching to draw his axe.

"Everything she was is gone. Do not play the fool. You knew exactly what it meant, what it would do." Cullen kept Samson steady off the ground, slamming him firmly against the tree. Samson winced at the impact and Cullen released, fists clenched as Samson fell to his feet.

"That isn't just a mage thing? Regular people can be tranquil too?" Varric questioned, puzzled at the possibility.

"No." Bull said simply, voice nearly a whisper. "It isn't just a mage thing."

Between the lyrium and the adrenaline, Cullen felt the world within his hands. The sheer joy, and uncharacteristic relishing in the thought of taking Samson's life. The man took the woman he loved away from him— the woman who'd given him purpose, who saw beyond the wounded and broken man chained by lyrium. Who helped him sever those very ties and eased the torments of his own mind. Evelyn, _his Evelyn,_ who gave him the benefit of doubt and still praised Cullen as Commander of her armies. This man, who single-handedly removed all of the beauty in the world in one action, who showed no signs of remote remorse.

"The most purpose you will ever serve, is feeding the maggots that feast on your flesh." Cullen scowled.

"What troubles you more Commander?" Samson asked, eyes narrowed. "That I performed the rite?" He laughed maniacally. "Or that she chose it?"

_She would never choose this._ Time slowed. Cullen felt his heart beating in his ears, lyrium running through his veins, his fists sweating and clutching; unable to retain the pure hatred seeping from him. He didn't think. With a roar, Cullen firmly placed his hands on both sides of Samson's head and yanked with a twist to one side. An awful crack filled the silence as Samson's limp body slumped to the ground.

Cullen never even drew his weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, he killed him. Bastard deserved it, no?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Holidays and such.  
> Well wishes to you and yours no matter what you celebrate. If you even do.

Every member of the inner circle was present at the war council, leaning up against the walls, slouching, crying, and collectively sorrowful regarding Evelyn's state. They'd been in the war room for approximately an hour, trading arguments over whether to support keeping Evelyn as Inquisitor. The throbbing between Cullen's eyes pounded harder with each passing second and he wanted to be literally anywhere but here, discussing anything else.

Cullen exhaled shakily, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword, relishing the only source of comfort he could cling to given recent events. "We must come to a consensus." Sooner, rather than later, he didn't add aloud.

"Why shouldn't Princess remain in power? She's led us this far!" Varric threw up his hands. Dark circles collected under his eyes and the beard usually not longer than a light scruff, had grown scraggly. Just as it had when Hawke was left behind in the Fade.

"Because she isn't herself," Cassandra retorted, arms folded across her chest as she gestured to state the obvious.

"That doesn't make her less qualified, Seeker!" Varric nearly spat. "She's more than earned her place." Standing adjacent to one another, they argued with casual ease. Almost too casual, as if often they spent their days debating various topics. Cullen thought their animosity had gotten better with time, perhaps it hadn't. Though, there was an aura of domesticity and despite the weight of their words, they seemed to not be targeting each other with their ire, but instead expressing it to one another. Internally, jealousy panged his heart, reminding himself of his inability to argue with Evelyn. How he wished he could argue —or do anything else— with her again.

Leliana placed her hands behind her back. Stoicism plastered on her features. "Actually, more than qualified. It makes her the ideal candidate for the job."

That was a jest, right? "You can't be serious!" Cullen's voice echoed within the room. He stepped forward, brow furrowed, and leaned against the war table to stop the dizzying feeling. Whether it was their topic of conversation, or his symptoms flaring again, he couldn't be certain.

Leliana continued, "She would be able to look at situations logically, without bias or emotions interfering. Though I am saddened at what has come to pass, she is exactly what we need."

"When we need it," Cassandra finished.

_Great_ , Cullen thought. The one time both the Right and Left Hands are in agreement is over the matter such as this. "You're taking her side?" Cullen pointed at the Spymaster and protested with a scoff. "The Inquisitor isn't who she was." He argued.

The distinguished tone of Vivienne chimed in, directed at Cullen. "Does that hinder her ability to perform her duties, darling, or yours?" She inspected her manicured hand. "Emotions are a weakness."

Cullen opened his mouth and closed it with an audible click. Arguing with her now wouldn't improve the situation, no matter how much wanted to tell her otherwise.

Rocking on her feet, Sera took a step. She paced as she wondered out loud, "Well, why not, yeah? I mean sure, she's not all there, but ya know, it's not like she has to be all there to be all here, right?"

Solas frowned. "The Inquisitor still has the mark. I inspected her hand. She can assist with lingering rifts or if the breach is reopened. Samson was incorrect in his assessment. Making her Tranquil didn't hinder the Mark's power, but simply removed her desire to use it."

The door swung open and the Inquisitor stood, hands folded neatly in front of her with two soldiers behind her. "Should I not be part of this meeting?" Evelyn looked at those in attendance, speaking with a lack of inflection. Gratingly different from the melodic normal tone. "Seeker?" Her steeled gaze flicked to Cullen. "Commander?"

Cullen wasn't certain which hurt worse, the fact he should have seen betrayal in her eyes and saw indifference over their discussion to remove her as Inquisitor, or the fact he almost wished he had seen it. If she felt betrayed, it would be something —anything was better than the hollow expression she looked at him with now. "Inquisitor, we were—"

"Deciding my fate?" Evelyn cocked her head.

Dorian, who had been unusually silent until now stepped forward, placed his arms around Evelyn's shoulders. "Come Ev, let's find something else that needs our attention."

"Is my presence not standardly required as part of my duty?" Evelyn didn't move, much like the mannequins Cullen often found in Orlesian merchant's windows. Her eyes only slowly scoured the room at those in attendance.

Cullen's chest felt heavy and he suddenly struggled to breathe as his cuirass seemed to smother him.

"Are you removing me from my post as Inquisitor?"

"No," Cassandra announced with a sigh. "I suppose we are not."

"Very well." In a methodical motion, Evelyn gestured to the guards as they entered the already uncomfortably full room. "Commander, effective immediately you are removed from your duties. These men will escort you to your holding cell to await judgment."

"Judgement? On what charge?" Cullen questioned.

Remarks of 'apologies, Commander,' spilled from his men as they approached. When Cullen didn't receive an answer, he demanded one. "For what!"

"For the murder of Raleigh Samson. Council adjourned." Evelyn's neutral expression and the empty look in her eyes bore into Cullen before she turned and exited without another word.

Cullen allowed his soldiers to disarm him and place him in irons out of the sheer disbelief at what occurred. He blinked, positive that if he continued to do so, he would wake from this never-ending nightmare.

As if Cullen hadn't just endured a massive trial in his life. As if he hadn't been stripped of everything dear to him. He survived Kinloch, Kirkwall, Haven, only to have what little love and peace he was afforded ripped from his grasp. His chest was heavy as he struggled to breathe under the weight of the situation. Trying to fight despite life delivering blow after blow. And now, he was being arrested for murder! Of Samson? Sweet Maker!

"What was it you were saying again about her being the ideal candidate?" Dorian challenged, flourishing his hand up to his ear. "Could you repeat that, I don't think I heard it over the sound of the Commander's arrest!" Dorian turned to address the room and repeated for good measure. "The. Commander's. arrest. I'll leave that to sink in." Dorian exited, slamming the doors behind him as Cullen was escorted out by his men.

The soldiers led Cullen to the dungeons with continued mutters of apology. The entire experience hurt, a chill sent a shiver down his spine, and he contemplated how things had gotten so incredibly twisted that he ended up here, in his own dungeon, locked up by his own men.

He wondered if this was how Evelyn felt when they'd taken her. If she had been frightened and alone, uncertain of the right course of action, or any course of action. For days, he'd watched the woman he loved when they returned home to Skyhold. She was calculated but distant, precise in her activities, and he cursed himself for once wishing she had been so thorough with her regular duties.

Evelyn was a ghost, and it ate at him. It chipped away at his psyche inch by inch. He hadn't uttered a word to her; he couldn't. It took everything in him to even look at her, unable to see beyond the woman no longer present within her current self. The woman she would never be again, and he reminded himself it was all his fault as he reflected on the return to Skyhold.

Samson's words rang like a bell in his head. The final twist of the knife that finally caused death. "What troubles you more, Commander? That I performed the rite? Or that she chose it?"

_Maker, why? Why would she elect to become Tranquil? What would ever give her the indication that Tranquility was the solution?_

On the return trip, Evelyn had recounted her story for the group. Though Cullen tried not to pay attention, he couldn't help himself from listening in. The moment he heard of the rogue Templars, he sent soldiers on a search to apprehend the traitors, to ensure the men responsible would pay for all they'd taken from her —and him. She had never given the details or the why of it all— perhaps she no longer understood the emotions and trauma she must have endured. Truth be told, he had tried not to dwell on it and failed.

_Dorian had come to speak with him in camp one night, as the fire crackled and roared amidst what should have otherwise been peaceful silence. Cullen had been upset, nearly inconsolable and he and Dorian fought. Now, back in Skyhold, he regretted his harshness. After all, Dorian was trying his own Dorian ways to help—with no success—and Cullen wished more than anything that he could ignite the spark of Evelyn's spirit again._

_"_ _It'll be all right, Commander." Dorian rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Somehow, some way, we will get her back, There could be some old Tevinter magicks—"_

_"_ _Enough!" Cullen yelled. "Don't you get it? You cannot reverse the Rite. It was implemented for a reason, by people like me. Like those of the former Order who put her in this position in the first place. I did this to her."_

_"_ _Oh please, Commander. Drown in self-pity instead of being productive." Dorian squeezed his shoulder. "Yes, let's sit and stew because that always makes everything much better."_

_"_ _Dorian— she is but a shell of who she once was. I cannot stand to look at her!" Cullen jerked forward, moving Dorian's hand away with the motion._

_"_ _That's funny." Dorian gritted his teeth. "Not 'haha' funny of course. But ironic because as I recall, she never gave up on you when you were but a shell of the man you are! Were she herself right now, she'd be sickened."_

_Cullen flinched as though Dorian's words physically struck him. "Repeat that?" Cullen challenged._

_"_ _I said, she would be disgusted with you, with how you've acted. Maker, Cullen. Lyrium, again? Do you know what that will do to her?"_

_Cullen drew his sword and stood to his feet abruptly, intending to strike at his own friend. He realized what he was doing, regaining his sensibilities after the fact as Dorian stared unamused and unafraid. Maker, the lyrium made him irritable, adding more compounding emotion to an already unbearable state. Cullen plopped back down on the log, burying his face in his hands. "It will do nothing because Evelyn is dead. I sit idle and watch some imposter stand in her place, wearing her face and making her decisions. How do you grieve someone who's still here? Maker, look in her eyes, there's nothing left. There's no spell or book or talisman that will fix it." Cullen's voice steadied and he spoke softly. "What could I possibly do?"_

_"_ _Not give up for starters. Regain your wits, cry and lash out, but be done with it and start providing solutions. I want you to remember this conversation, Commander," Dorian whispered. "Because when I help you pull your head from your arse and you can see daylight again, and assist —somehow— with returning Evelyn to you, you'll owe me a thank you, and I expect payment forthwith." Dorian's arms wrapped Cullen into a hug as he succumbed to the soul-crushing weight of despair._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you expecting that?


	21. Chapter 21

The dungeon was drafty, and dingy, reminding Cullen of Kinloch. Hating confinement since his capture, he despised the aura of the atmosphere. He was very much like a caged animal ready to strike any who had the foul luck to step in his way. The torchlight illuminated rows of empty cells, a testament to all the Inquisitor had judged. She would be harsh but not cruel and at least he could take some comfort in that. Cullen's hands trembled and the headache pounded between his eyes. _I never should have taken that draught of lyrium. Maker, I am paying for it now._ He'd endured this once before, but could he do it again? If the throbbing in his head was any indication, quitting for the second time would be even more of a challenge than before.

Then again, Samson was dead, Evelyn was tranquil, other than finding and seeking the men who kidnapped her, which the Inquisition was already working on, there was nothing to do but sit and stew, mulling over every decision which led him to this point. Though killing Samson felt amazing at the time and he more than had it coming, it left a pit of emptiness where his motivation once resided, leaving Cullen without purpose.

The dungeon door resounded with a heavy clang. Cassandra came into view holding a book underneath her right arm with the Seekers of Truth symbol etched into the leather cover. Her eyes were encircled with bags, an indication she hadn't slept. Her lips pressed into a hard line and she sighed wearily. "Commander."

The hesitation in her tone signified she was unsure of how to approach whatever it was she had to say.

"Lady Cassandra?" He greeted out of courtesy, not even feigning happiness at her presence.

She sighed again and he braced himself for more bad news. Though he wondered what more could the Maker throw at him now. After all he endured, how could it possibly be worse? Questioning fate was a dangerous game. "The Lord Seeker gave me this book when we departed Caer Oswin, but with the Inquisitor missing, I hadn't had time to read it until now."

Cullen said nothing, motioning with his hand for her to continue.

"We may have found a solution to our Evelyn problem. Because she is not a mage, we can attempt to make her a Seeker. As it were, I was once made tranquil and never knew. When my vigil was complete, I gained my abilities." Cassandra paused as Cullen's eyes widened, he listened more attentively, focusing on every word. "However, this rite requires a spirit, benign or malevolent to reach through the fade and touch one's mind."

"What's the delay?" he demanded, standing abruptly to his feet, grabbing onto the metal bars which held him, as if he could bend them by will alone.

"There are," Cassandra averted her eyes as if to find the proper word, " _things_ to consider. Possible repercussions."

"You have my attention." The Seeker had never been once to dance around any subject, but Cullen wished more than anything she'd just be out with it. As far as repercussions were concerned, it couldn't possibly be worse than it already was. "Well, a Seeker's tranquility is based on faith, not a lyrium brand. Though I am confident it _should_ work similarly, she could end up possessed and I would have to-"

"End the threat." Cullen finished, grimy.

Cassandra merely nodded. "If she is deemed unworthy, the effects are permanent."

"Until a moment ago, it _was_ permanent," Cullen admitted. As far as he knew every rite of tranquility, whether deserved or not, couldn't be reversed. Once the connection to the fade was severed, there was no way to re-establish it. Or so he'd thought. So they all thought. _Maker,_ Cullen realized, _we can save her._

"But lastly, Evelyn refuses to consent." Cassandra rubbed her forehead.

"She what!?" Cullen boomed. "That's ridiculous. Why would…?"

"As far as she's concerned, there isn't anything wrong with her current state. Why _would_ she want the cure? She doesn't care that this is wrong."

_"You can't always save someone from themselves, a hard truth to learn, but I know it well,"_ Cullen once said to Evelyn after the events of the Winter Palace. Maker, he wasn't lying then and the irony didn't escape him now. _Why would she want to be cured, she doesn't possess emotion to feel otherwise._ Cullen's brows furrowed. "If she was aware, _actual her,_ she would want this rectified."

"Would she? Or is it because _we_ prefer who she was? How could we in good conscience force her to undergo the reversal of the rite? It would be the same as forcing it upon her in the first place." Cassandra paced, clearly at war within her own thoughts. Also a feeling Cullen knew too well.

_How is this even a topic for debate?_ "It was a coerced decision," Cullen explained. "She isn't of sound mind."

Cassandra scoffed. "Even you don't truly believe that. She's more of sound mind now than she's ever been!" Cassandra lifted her palm to silence him before he responded. "I cannot force the cure upon her, it is wrong."

_How is it wrong to cure someone of an affliction they don't believe is one?_ "Lady Cassandra!" Cullen squeezed the bars in panic. "Fix her." He ordered. "I'll accept any repercussions, provide any available resource…" Cullen's voice lulled to a whisper. "Do whatever necessary, but return her to me." He begged. "Cassandra." Her dark brown eyes shined with emotion, pity perhaps? Something he neither wanted nor appreciated. He needed her to fix Evelyn, not look upon him like that. " _Return her to me_. Please."

"I'll think on what you've said, Commander." Cassandra retrieved the book and departed, leaving Cullen alone again with his thoughts, anxieties, and withdrawal symptoms.

Within a few hours, soldiers retrieved Cullen from his cell who practically paraded him through the main hall in front of the audience of nobles, the inner circle, and the woman he loved as his judge and jury. Whispers filled the air as he came into view, speculation coming from all sides. Though most looked upon him with understanding, others seemed to condemn him before he ever set foot before the dais and the Inquisitor.

"Inquisitor." Josephine sighed. "I bring before you this day, Cullen Rutherford. Formerly of the Order and temporarily removed Commander of the Inquisition's forces." The Ambassador shot him a sympathetic and apologetic look. "His crime is the death of one Raleigh Samson; Corypheus' general and enemy of the Inquisition."

Evelyn locked on Cullen, no emotion behind her eyes whatsoever. "Will you speak in your own defense?"

"Samson was corrupt, a sorry excuse. He was no longer a human being, only a monster." The fact he needed to explain this perturbed him. She was briefed on the situation, she knew of the man's crimes. What information could he offer which she didn't already know?

"Even so, he was already apprehended and in the custody of Inquisition personnel. His death was unnecessary."

Cullen stared at her. There would be no reason he could provide. It wasn't logic, nor necessity. It was revenge in a blind rage. For those formerly of the order, for Maddox, for Evelyn. Because he loved her so completely that he allowed the hatred, betrayal, fear, anguish, and grief to take root in his heart and fill the void the loss _his Evelyn_ left behind. All things she quite literally _couldn't_ understand. Did not have the emotional capacity to understand. He remained quiet.

"Therefore, since you offer no evidence as necessity for your crime, the only logical decision is to take from you that which you have taken from another. Ser Cullen, you will die at sundown. I'll make the necessary preparations."

Cullen's mouth gaped and he hung his head as the audience gasped in shock. He thought to fight, but Cullen was never a man to flee. Furthermore, they had increased the soldiers presence for his judgement. Having trained each man himself, he knew that under orders, it would be certain and swift detainment or, depending on how successful his attempts were, immediate death. Yet, neither could he undermine her authority, which is what any escape attempt would do. He resigned himself to his fate.

Cullen knew the war council was in session, but there would be no way out of this. If they tried to take away Evelyn's power, to remove her from her post, it would pose massive political outrage and cause mutiny within the ranks. If Leliana were to use her skills and break him out, the Inquisitor would know the inner circle was working against her and remove them all. There was no escape. Their hands were tied and orders bound to the Inquisitor's will, and her sentence would be implemented. Arguing would only have expedited the process and undermined her.

At least she had the decency of making it swift. Sunset was in a matter of hours and Cullen was provided parchment to pen his goodbyes. He always knew that there was a chance he may die in service to the Inquisition, though these circumstances had never crossed his mind.

Cullen wrote to Mia, the longest letter he could remember having ever written as he recalled the good memories they shared before he left to join the Order. The Inquisition was always his chance to atone and perhaps that would come with death since it had not in life. There were so many times he nearly died, Kinloch, Kirkwall, Haven. Skyhold it would seem, would be the one place he was finally laid to rest. Putting the quill to parchment, he penned letters to the inner circle, some more personal than others.

Finally satisfying Dorian's repeated request, Cullen thanked him for his persistent meddling. Professional words termed the nagging as assistance; it would not offer the level of gratitude the Vint expected. His notes to the Spymaster and Ambassador cited what a pleasure it had been to work alongside them on behalf of the Inquisition and hoped they would think of him from time to time once this was over. Though his acceptance of the position led him to this point, he wrote to Cassandra, advising her how much her offer meant and how grateful he was for her continual faith. The missive to his soldiers contained how proud he was of them (the loyal ones, at any rate) and how it had been an honor to serve as their Commander.

The next letter was by far the hardest so he reserved it for last. A tear fell down his cheek; with a sigh, he put quill to parchment for the final time and began.

_My Dearest Evelyn..._


	22. Chapter 22

The war room was eerily quiet. Concerned glances passed between every party in attendance until Bull finally relented, throwing up his hands in surrender. "I had no idea the Boss was talking about Cullen. She asked what was standard in that instance and I told her. She hadn't arrested him yet, there would be no reason for me to think it was about him."

Cassandra rubbed her forehead and sighed. "What can we do?"

Desperation bled through Josephine's voice. "We are not in a position to remove her from her status. It would provoke war, perhaps mutiny, it would tear down everything we've fought against!"

"He can disappear," Leliana explained. "My scouts can have him as far away as possible. When the time comes, he will not be here for the sentence to be carried out."

With a shake of her head, the Ambassador indicated her disapproval. "Then she will know it was you and that puts all of us and our positions at risk. If she can remove the Commander, then she could easily remove any of us."

"Why?" Cassandra scoffed. "I don't understand why. What is this? Revenge?"

Leaning on his staff, Solas spoke, silent until now. "No, this was not an emotional decision.

Varric swatted the war table with his hand. "That's the problem. I don't agree with it, but I understand it. Ignoring the fact that it's Curly, he killed a man who the Inquisition already had in custody at the time. Samson could have been a resource, one way or another. The decision of what to do with him should have fallen to her."

Blackwall tugged his beard with his fingers. "What about a duplicate? Do we have anyone that resembles Cullen enough to put someone in his place?"

"And what? Outright murder a look-alike whose only crime is looking like Curly?"

Vivienne smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in her outfit. "Don't you think if we did, we'd have flouted the impostor in front of the Orlesians by now?"

"I get why Cullen did it," Bull affirmed, crossing his arms. "Had we known what he did at the time, any one of us could have killed him and not thought twice about it."

Standing in Cullen's place, Rylen frowned. "Samson's head was too valuable to take."

"Exactly." Varric gestured towards Rylen as if his point had been made. "Not only did Curly kill a man already in custody, but interfered with Inquisition operations in the process. Which would make him a traitor to the cause. In her- odd, out of normal- mind anyway."

Josephine added. "There is nothing the Inquisition can do that won't make matters worse."

Blackwall directed his question towards Solas. "A spell... a scroll, a potion: is there anything we could use?"

Dorian leaned forward, gesturing wildly with his hands. "If there were such a marvelous item available, don't you think we would have been using it all this time to prevent our own deaths?"

"Then we have no choice." Cassandra set the Seeker's book of secrets down on the war table. "We get our Evelyn back, with or without her approval."

"Now that's more like it." Dorian clapped. "Cole, you can help with this, yes?"

"I want to help." Cole smiled.

"I would think my expertise would be necessary as well." Solas offered and received a unanimous nod from the group in response.

The stoicism normally on the Spymaster's features gave way to a frown as her lips pressed into a hard line. "Let us pray we are not too late by then. If this doesn't work, we lose the only chance of saving an innocent man."

Cassandra sighed. "And Evelyn's condition will be permanent. Let's get to work."

Cullen's hands were bound by ropes behind his back as he was led along the battlements outside his former office. He was pushed to the ground on his knees and he saw the sunset of Skyhold. A horizontal streak illuminated oranges, pinks, and purples against the contrast of the bright blue. At least it's a nice day.

The heavy footfalls of his executioner grew louder as they approached, the looming shadow only increased his anxiety. He scanned the crowd, and it would seem the entire population of nobles, soldiers, scouts, men, and the inner circle came to see his condemnation, except Cassandra, Dorian, Solas, and Cole. Those in attendance were all armed, in case he tried some desperate last attempt to save himself.

Evelyn stood off to his left. Though she looked identical as she always had, Cullen noticed she had lost some of her luster. Her hair was black and boring, her cheeks perfectly ivory, no sign of warmth from a blush, her lips were pressed together comfortably though not painted and the kohl that normally surrounded her blue eyes had been absent. Everything about her since this ordeal caused her to lose a little more of herself every day and it hurt his heart to see her in such an abnormal state. The only thing that provided him comfort was to see that even she- likely because she had been informed armor was required as cautionary for an execution, should the prisoner attempt escape- wore the shield he had once gifted her and her normal sword.

Their eyes met across the sea of people and she showed no semblance of normalcy, completely devoid of all emotion, perfectly content in her decision for him to die. He swallowed hard. The worst fate was not the sentence of death but awaiting death to come. Memories of his life came into focus and he agonized over all of his decisions, things he tried to atone for, reminisced about the good times and wondered if he'd done enough to earn a place with the Maker. As the executioner read Cullen's charges, he tuned it out, taking his final moments for prayer and reflection. The passage he chose was Benedictions 4:10 and 4:11. They were words he lived by, it only seemed fitting, he die by them as well.

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written."

He cast one final glance at Evelyn, and in his mind, he saw her as she used to be. The vibrant warrior who filled his life full of happiness and he mouthed I love you. Even if she couldn't understand it right now, he knew those words would always possess merit. Closing his eyes, he sucked in breath awaiting the blade of the headsman's axe.

Cassandra, Solas, Cole, and Dorian set up in the otherwise vacant tower next to Cullen's. Save for a few pieces of furniture, nobody had transitioned it into their home or area, because it was next to the execution location, they could remain as close to Evelyn as possible without drawing attention or risking accusation or interference.

Dorian and Cassandra studied the Seeker's book, making sure that every detail was followed with a meticulous eye. If this was their only shot at recovering Evelyn, then they would be sure to be as thorough as possible despite the time crunch. The plan was simple, Solas and Cole would venture into the Fade. Solas would help direct as necessary, Cole would be the spirit to reach across the veil and touch Evelyn's mind, leaving Dorian and Cass to watch the doors, though they suspected interruptions were unlikely. Everyone was absolutely stricken by the event happening outside that no one dared wander. Half of those present speculated as to if the execution would really happen.

Solas sat on the bed. "Cole, are you ready?" Withdrawing a self-concocted potion, he drank the contents of the vial's clear liquid. He rested his head against the pillow after Cole's nod of response and drifted to sleep almost instantly.

The green fog of the Fade seemed to stick to everything, blanketing the area and compromising visibility. However, Solas was an experienced traveler and with little effort, manipulated their target area to Skyhold beyond the veil in the exact place they left.

"Will this hurt?" Cole asked Solas, shifting his weight nervously. "I do not hurt, I help."

"Cole, this will not hurt." Solas placed a hand on the spirit's shoulder. "It will restore her to the person she once was."

"Good ." Cole agreed. "She liked helping people."

"Exactly." Solas counted with a gentle squeeze. "It is our turn to help her."

"It would feel wrong, if it felt. Nothing sits where there should be something. Hurt, anger and fear have subsided but the happy and love is gone too. She needs it to be strong, to heal, hope, help." Cole's glance flitted from Solas to Evelyn. "I can fix her."

"Yes, Cole," Solas affirmed, withdrawing his hand and leaning on his staff. "In this state, she is broken, but you can mend the wound. Restore her and it's more than possible you will save two lives today. If not more..."

With a nod, Cole smiled and reached through the fade, touching Evelyn's mind as the executioner lifted his blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Predictions?


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: There is a possible Trigger Warning in this chapter. Please take care of yourself and get a pre-reader if necessary.  
> Read the whole thing before sending hatemail, please? :)

Evelyn recognized Cullen's final words and a faint inexplicable pang hit her heart that she ignored. The executioner raised the axe above his shoulders. With brute force, he brought the weapon down, the unrelenting metal sliced through the flesh of Cullen's neck, severing his head from his body spraying the audience with blood and an awful thud resounded when it hit the stone.

She turned and walked into the former Commander's office. According to the Ambassador, his personal effects would need to be gathered and sent to his family in South Reach, but none of the inner circle wanted to rifle through the things of one of their most valued members so soon after his death. However, she didn't mind and volunteered for the task. The desk was disheveled as normal with papers, ink jars and quills strewn about. Evelyn remembered the upstairs as well and figured more of his personal items would be there than on his work desk.

Ascending the ladder, she found everything identical as remembered. The bed sat under the hole in the roof and he had a simple trunk. She opened it and began to sort through his things.

Inside, there was a painting of herself she'd never before seen which sat on top of perfectly folded clothes. A leather-bound journal with all of his thoughts was at the bottom along with half-written letters and a small box, neatly placed in the corner, intentionally hidden. Cullen was a complicated man who lived a simple life with minor material possessions.

A deep voice drew her attention away from her task. "As I understand it, the test of worth is different for everyone."

Evelyn turned to find Garrett Hawke laid out on Cullen's bed, arms folded behind his head and ankles crossed. "I do not understand. You should not be here, you were left behind at Adamant, in the Fade."

"When you were made tranquil, your connection to the Fade was severed. In order to re-establish that connection, you must choose between staying as you are or regaining your emotions and returning as you were. Though you must first be put through a test of worth, which is, as I stated, different for everyone."

"Your presence is my test?" Evelyn asked.

"No, I am but your guide. Here to help, if necessary."

Evelyn picked up the top piece of parchment from the chest and began to read.

_House Trevelyan,_

_Initially, I'd hoped this to be an invitation of another kind, a confirmation of her acceptance of my proposal. Instead, it has turned out to be a notification of another matter. It is with a heavy heart and deepest regret that I inform you of Lady Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan's passing. I swear before you and the Maker that I will personally seek and ensure justice of those responsible._

_Of that, you have my word._

_Evelyn was the finest woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing both professionally and personally. Though I am not certain if she was ever aware, but it was her strength that gave me the courage when I thought myself lost, trapped within the darkest corners of my mind. My trials have been continual for many years with little reprieve but I find her absence is my greatest challenge._ _I will strive to prove my worth to both her and our cause until I draw my last breath._

 _—_ _Cullen Rutherford._

Folding the note, she placed it in her pocket. Other than a nice sentiment, it stirred no emotions but she kept it for reasons she couldn't quite understand. She turned to Hawke and stood. "Shall we begin?"

Hawke sat up abruptly, with a wave of his hand, the scenery shifted from Cullen's loft to Main Hall of Skyhold. Before her stood an identical version of herself, though younger. The innocence plastered on her features and in her eyes reflected that of a warrior from a noble house who had yet to experience life and its horrors.

After clearing his throat, Hawke explained. "With all the lessons you've learned, impart them upon your younger self. Give her the advice she will need to succeed."

Evelyn grabbed the hands of her twin, mimicking a common gesture that she'd so often seen others do. Though she didn't understand why, she noted it as an appropriate action when speaking with someone. "Emotions are a weakness. Do not allow yourself to fall victim to their influence. Without them, logic is prevalent and allows one to operate effectively without hindrance."

Evelyn's younger self-held an expression of confusion, but despite the furrowed brow, nodded in understanding.

A quirked eyebrow indicated Hawke's surprise. "Let's see how _well_ that knowledge works out."

"What do you plan to do?" "Show you what your indifference has wrought." Hawke snapped his fingers and the scenery shifted.

The darkness enveloped the area and she spectated as their surroundings morphed into Cullen's office. His armor gleamed as he moved within the flickering candlelight. Fist firmly planted against the bookshelf, the force rattled the case and the literature within. Eyes fixated to the floor, he stared, cheeks red as Evelyn stood by the door with her hands folded in front of her, completely unphased by his turmoil.

"I should be taking it." Cullen snarled, disgust lacing his words. "I should be taking it." He repeated in a whisper.

She nodded, providing confirmation of his assessment. "Yes. This war will take everything we've got. The soldiers need, no, they _deserve_ you at your best." Evelyn responded coldly.

"Yes, Inquisitor." With a resigned sigh, Cullen picked the draught up off the desk and winced. "There will be no further distractions, you have my word."

Evelyn watched him drink the blue liquid, if she felt anything at all, it was indiscernible amidst the stoic expression on her face. He exhaled heavily and hung his head, dropping the empty vial, shattering against the stone ground splaying shards of glass in all directions.

The ghost of Hawke leaned against the desk crossing his arms and his right ankle over his left. "After all of his progress, you demolished him and it with one order." He scoffed, tisking her.

"I fail to see the purpose in this," Evelyn stated simply.

"I am confident that you will." Hawke smiled mischievously. With a clap, the atmosphere changed again and she stood with Cullen in the armory.

Weapons lined the table in front of them, the heavy clanging from the blacksmith's hammer caused the metal to resound, echoing within the walls as Cullen inspected a newly completed sword. "Once your sacrifices are made, is there no end? Are you leashed until the day you die or until lyrium takes your mind away?" Cullen's voice was monotone, as though there was no longer a soul within the man before her.

"This is the life you've chosen," Evelyn explained, detached in her reticent commitment to the Inquisition's process.

"Ouch." Hawke hissed. "Not only did you make him take lyrium again, but you also threw it in his face that he once opted for it? You can't really think this is what he intended."

"It's irrelevant. The choice was based on logic, a commander should be effective at his duties." Evelyn shrugged. "It's that simple."

"Simple, you say." Hawke grabbed her by the upper arms, not enough to hurt but applying pressure to keep her grounded firmly in place. "Do you have any idea what you did to him? How that indifference changed his life? For the worst?"

A blue aura radiated from Hawke's hands as he spread his fingers and thrust them forward, sending a shockwave through the area. When Evelyn closed her eyes and reopened them, she found herself on the side of a street before a man whom she did not recognize.

Long blonde hair which she speculated hadn't been washed laid in unruly and matted curls down to his beard covered chin; equally long and tangled, various scraps of what she assumed was food debris littered the scraggly beard. His pale skin reminded her of Cole's with a yellow tint; but the man's sagging flesh barely held to his bones. The man shook as though he were cold despite the burning sun, his awkwardly bent fingers clutching an outstretched cup despite the tremors in his hands; their unnatural angles and distended knuckles alluded to old injuries. A pungent odor emanated from him which reminded Evelyn of soured dairy and the latrine. He was covered in patches of dirt and caked mud. The clothes were red with accents of yellow, though in lieu of plated armor, a dingy, once white shirt was worn underneath. Clumps of fur were attached to something around the neck, but it appeared as though the animal from which it came had mange. Moth-eaten, torn, and tattered down to the soles of what may have once been boots were riddled with holes. The man sat, disgusting, filthy, and overall a sad, broken sight.

Passers-by either ignored or mocked him, knocking the cup out of his hands causing what little spare change it contained to fly freely as he scrambled to recover it. Some tossed water on him, laughing as they commented on the stench, others taunted him with food, pretending as though they were going to share before snatching it back and departing. Begging for coin or lyrium, he stammered in a voice so low one could mistake it for a child's. Evelyn watched in horror as a stranger spilled her drink, blue liquid pouring onto the brick road. As though it were the most he was offered in days, the man scurried up to it, licking the juice off the ground. Curling up in a near fetal position, he leaned against the wall, feeble and broken.

"You remember Cullen Rutherford. Former Commander of the Inquisition's forces, ex-templar, and lyrium addict. Thanks to your influence." Hawke gestured in Cullen's direction, not hiding his own tear stained cheeks at the sight before them. "Why don't you say hello?"

Evelyn approached him hesitantly and the pang she felt at his execution flourished in her chest, unable to be ignored any longer. Fear flickered in her eyes at the realization of what she had caused. The Commander, a once strong, nearly fearless man, reduced to the shell before her. Her heart seized and she felt as though she was being suffocated. Feeling for the tucked away note in her pocket she withdrew it and re-read the words which once belonged to the man in question.

The area around her spun and before she knew it, she was back in Cullen's empty loft. It was as if the room collapsed upon her. She struggled to breathe as her chest constricted and gasped for air. A cry of pain escaped her lips and tears filled her eyes spilling over and trailing down her cheeks. "Maker! What have I done?!" Evelyn sniffled, a snotty, congested sound elicited and caused a groan from Hawke. "Somehow, no matter what he has done, that was worse than quite literally any evil I have ever seen."

She became hysterical as she clutched the parchment to her chest. "I thought that my feelings made me weak. That without them, I would be able to see objectively, to know the clear line of right and wrong. Yet, I sentenced the man I love to death over a man who was horrible. A monster who manipulated and lied, turned on his own soldiers. Betrayed his entire order and led them to ruin."

 _But Cullen did the same thing. Didn't he?_ Evelyn shook her head, banishing the thought. _There isn't any proof of that._ "It was no gift. Cullen was right. I need the truth, the hurt, the pain and the joy-all of it-to make an informed decision. Emotions aren't a weakness; they're strength."

"It is because of that revelation, you are worthy of their return," Hawke explained. "To know and fully accept both the good and bad and still comprehend their importance, is what makes you invaluable as Inquisitor."

"What do I do? It's already too late!" she gasped in horror.

"Is it?" Hawke questioned with a smile.

Evelyn recognized Cullen's final words and the previously faint, no longer inexplicable pang hit her heart with the severity of a blow from a two-handed weapon. The executioner raised the axe above his head. Despite the very real possibility that Cullen could be a liar, a manipulator and tried to have her killed on multiple occasions, she could not stand idle before the truth was uncovered for certain. Not again.

"No!"

Within moments, her shield was drawn and she ran, sliding to place herself between the executioner and Cullen. The metal of the axe resounded off of her shield, pain shot through her arm but she held steady combating the brute force of the wielder. "By Inquisitor decree, I pardon this prisoner. There'll be no execution here today. Dismissed!" Evelyn nodded to the soldier to her left. "Untie him, immediately." The executioner released his grip and set the axe to the side allowing Evelyn to lower her shield and stand. RTope which bound Cullen's wrists together was cut and he was assisted to his feet. Rubbing the flesh of his wrists, he glanced to Evelyn, eyes wide in a mix of shock and confusion as realization set in. Not a second later, he embraced her. Taking a step back, he gazed into her eyes, searching. "Maker, it is you! You've returned to me."

Encased in his strong arms, she didn't reciprocate the gesture. Not that she didn't want to hug him, but he hardly allowed her the opportunity with her arms at her sides. Still, she had no idea if Cullen could be trusted. If any of the rumors held merit. After electing to become tranquil, she never thought she'd have to care from more than an Inquisition standpoint, never thought it would again be impactful on a personal level. Now, she had to know for certain even if the truth would break her heart and until then, she couldn't be near him. Were it fact, it would be too much to handle.

Though she didn't desire to leave necessarily, she couldn't stay. Requiring space, she needed a place to process her thoughts and emotions without the hundreds of eyes watching in attendance. The pressure was immense as her gaze flitted among the murmuring crowd. Whispers and shocked gasps resounded and she felt the fool: for Cullen's scheduled execution, for her harshness and haste. More than anything, she longed to be away from the speculation and judgment now shrouding the area, fueling paranoia and adding to her anxiety. Chest heavy, her lungs constricted, forcing in air her body didn't seem to want.

Tears filled both of their eyes before she squirmed causing him to release and she pulled away from him. "Please, I need time." "Ev-" Cullen frowned and his hand lingered outstretched a moment before dropping to his side in resignation to her wishes.

Every footfall was thunder in her ears as Evelyn ran to her quarters and locked the door. Exhausted and overwhelmed; her head smacked against the wood as she slunk back, crying nonstop as a swarm of emotions engulfed her. Everything she should have felt since her transformation piled onto her already confused and somewhat delicate state of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The test of worth is in the lore actually, but it doesn't state what that entails, therefore, I had to wing it.  
> So what did you think? Predictable? Hopefully not. A bit cliché, sure. Were you on the edge of your seat? I hope so.
> 
> Like I could really kill the handsome Commander. Pffft. Don't be silly.


	24. Chapter 24

Cullen paced in the Main Hall. _Maker, she was back._ The notion was initially so ridiculous if he didn't chuckle he thought he may burst into tears at the sheer joy. For a number of years, it was popular belief and for good reason, that tranquility could not be reversed. He was so relieved, it almost hadn't mattered that she requested space. After all, Evelyn had been through a massive ordeal and he wanted to respect that equally as much as he wanted to storm into their quarters, take her into his arms and never let her go again.

The fact remained that he now had that option. They had time, years if she agreed to marry him. Even on the off chance that the reversal was successful, he thought he wouldn't be alive to see it happen, much less have the woman that he loved who condemned him to that fate, save him at the last moment. This was equally as trying for him as it had been for her, though differently. And he found himself breathing deeply, inhaling and exhaling amidst his disbelief and thanking the Maker that he'd narrowly escaped death yet again.

"Commander." Leliana placed a hand on his shoulder. "The Lieutenant has been apprehended. Given that he orchestrated this entire thing, we thought you may wish to question him yourself."

The thought of work gave him pause. Being Commander was unrelenting, with scouts parading around with war reports, missives and directives which needed signed, debriefings which needed to be tended to, troops he had to now relocate away from Arbor Wilds. Despite all he knew it would mean, the thought gave him comfort. It was an opportunity to return to doing what he did best and he relished it.

He thanked the Spymaster before departing. With his armor and gear returned to him, he made a quick trip to his office to freshen up, the Ambassador's words resounded within his mind. _Because we are at the forefront of the Inquisition, keeping up appearances is a necessity._ He changed into clean trousers and a cotton shirt that regardless of his sentence, Josephine had ensured awaited him. A renewed sense of pride overtook him as he once again donned his plate with shield at his back and sword secured to his hip. Cullen styled his hair per usual and departed for the dungeons.

As he passed his comrades and subordinates, they praised him with encouragements. "Good to have you back, Commander." With a chuckle, Cullen nodded and saluted, maintaining pace. It was a welcome sight and feeling to have those still loyal beaming with pride at his resuming duties. A warmth flourished in his chest as he offered lopsided smiles to all who offered commentary.

Across the courtyard and through the door, he descended the stairs to the dungeon only to see his highest regarded Lieutenant, a man he served with in Kirkwall before the Inquisition, staring him in the face with cold disinterest and disgust through the cell door. By his appearance, other than being slightly dirty, he didn't look evil. His hair was mussed, a blonde heap trailing to his forehead with a pointed nose and black beady eyes. Though Cullen knew -had learned the hard way- evil took many faces. The happiness that he felt morphed into sheer rage. This entire operation was organized by the person before him. Someone who put not only his life, but Evelyn in grave danger, nearly took her away from him permanently. That, was not all right.

Cullen stood at attention directly in front of the offender. "You will tell me everything I wish to know and understand, I'll not ask twice."

A quirked eyebrow and an amused scoff met Cullen's threat. "What do you wish to know, Commander?"

"Why?" Cullen demanded. "Why did you do this? She is your Inquisitor! Your leader! What would prompt such treachery?"

The Lieutenant sat, drawing in the dirt of the cell with his finger, doodling circles, and various other shapes, clearly nonchalant about the matter. "The Inquisitor betrayed her people. We were merely returning the favor." A smile played at his lips.

"Returning the-" Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "What!?"

"That bitch left Inquisition soldiers to die. After they fought, bled under her banner! Turning her over to Samson was just desserts."

"You'll not speak of her that way." Cullen fumed, gripping the bars to the cell with what he hoped was enough force for them to accidentally be pulled off the hinges. "Do not presume to know the details which led to that decision. It was an impossible choice, one that no one wanted to make."

"As I suspected." He mused. "You've always proven where your loyalties rest, Commander." Lieutenant laughed. "If history is to be of any indication, you tend to lie with the woman at the top."

"Maker's blood, make sense, quickly. I've not the patience." Cullen tapped his foot, returning his hands to the pommel of his sword.

"It is hardly a secret that you like to leverage power, Commander. There were a great many more qualified than you to be Kirkwall's Knight-Captain. Seasoned Templars who put in their time, paid their dues, earned the title which they were bestowed." Lieutenant spat. "Unlike you. It became clear that you were in Knight-Commander Meredith's pocket, or should I say trousers? It's no different than what you've done here. Sleeping with the woman at the top to further your career. You made a mockery of those who worked to garner respect. When the opportunity arose to not only pay Evelyn back for blatantly tossing aside the men under her command, but also frame you, her lover, I couldn't resist." His eyes narrowed, his pupils dilated as he stood, placing his face between the bars next to the torchlight.

Cullen shook his head. "I never-"

"Did you know that she chose to become tranquil?" With a satisfied sigh, he continued. "The betrayal she felt over everything you did is what caused her to make that decision. She was only too happy to cease loving a vial manipulator, the stain on the Inquisition."

"I did nothing of the sort." Cullen snarled and his jaw locked. Realization dawned on him and he drew his weapon. "What did you tell her?"

"That you've been working against her since Haven. Everything you've done has been to thwart her efforts and she may believe that you've tried to have her killed on occasion."

"No!" Cullen roared. "Ev-The Inquisitor would know I'd never…"

"I can be quite persuasive." The Lieutenant beamed with pride. "Plus the hallucinatory substances we gave her assisted, I've no doubt."

The tip of Cullen's sword was placed with careful precision against Lieutenant's neck as he applied pressure to draw a drop of blood that slowly slid down the length of the blade.

"Commander!" Cassandra scowled, torchlight illuminating her face. "Drop your weapon. Now!"

He'd been so preoccupied, he hadn't noticed her arrival until she seemed to materialize before him. "This traitor deserves it." Cullen hissed.

A firm hand covered the hand which gripped his sword. "This is how you got into this mess in the first place. Whatever his punishment, it is not your decision." Cassandra explained. "It is the Inquisitor's."

Cullen relented, knowing she was correct as he took a step back, shaking her off and sheathing his sword.

"But we need information from him first," Leliana announced, appearing from the shadows. "Worry not, I will extract names of those with whom he conspired, to ensure they are _taken care of_."

Cullen huffed but gave a curt nod in response. What nonsense had this man told Evelyn? Could she have truly believed any of it? How could he begin to repair the damage when she had no want to speak with him?

Somehow, someway, he would have to show Evelyn the truth.


	25. Chapter 25

Evelyn heard what must have been the thousandth knock at the door that day. It was probably Cullen, considering he had yet to stop by. Though it could have been any of the inner circle given their insistence to check on her at fifteen-minute intervals. Unable to discern if it was genuine concern, or if it had become a game, she ignored the knocks. She assumed it was a deliberate attempt to annoy her into letting someone in while they took bets on who would finally be permitted entry.

The rush of emotion had been a whirlwind as though she were trapped in a vortex of decisions and consequences someone else had made while she slept. It swirled in her mind and she could not differentiate fact from fiction. Her belief at Cullen's betrayal, the trauma of being abducted and manipulated into allowing herself to become tranquil, and nearly carrying out his execution was all too overwhelming; she needed a moment to piece it all together and make a clear picture.

As Cullen's voice filled the air, she lifted her head, peeking over her folded arms. He sounded hurt, worry lacing his words. "Evelyn. Open the door, please."

Though it was only a few yards, the distance between them might as well have been miles. Her voice escaped her, and tears ran down her cheeks in sporadic bursts. Burying her head back into her knees, she allowed them to fall. She despised crying and the illusion of weakness that accompanied it but found it her only outlet. There was nothing to say. How could she even begin to vocalize to him, or anyone, the unbearable weight she carried? They couldn't understand the guilt, the terror, the sheer hatred that coursed through her veins at what they had done, what she endured.

"Evie," he said, voice but a whisper. "I'll be here when you're prepared to discuss— I'd never—" Cullen stopped talking, cutting his words off mid-sentence before sighing. "Know I'm here. All right?"

Heavy footsteps followed his words, becoming more faint with each passing second. Half of her wanted to run after him, while the other kept her rooted in place, stifling sobs and trying to sort out her muddled emotions.

She groaned as another knock intruded on her thoughts. Why couldn't they simply let her be, allow her time to process? Dorian's voice rang, echoing within the room. "My dear, you either open this instant or I will blow this door off its hinges. If you force me to ruin my outfit with soot or debris, I will be rather displeased." A lengthy pause followed when she didn't respond, hoping he would leave.

For a moment, she thought he had left until he spoke again. "And you know what happens when a Tevinter mage is less than content." The playfulness in his words shrouded the warning with false comfort. He truly had the best intentions at heart, despite his pushy methods.

She jerked at the loud boom preceding Dorian's entrance. The sound of wood planks shifting followed as he stepped on the pieces and ascended the stairs. Dusting his robes of the small splinters caught on the fabric, he turned at the top. His face drooped; she must have been a sorry sight. To Evelyn's surprise, Leliana trailed him, arms behind her back.

Dorian enveloped her in a hug. Finding comfort in the body heat he radiated, she buried her face in his shoulder as tears fell. He shushed her gently and patted her head, whispering reassurances. "Cullen has been worried about you. A complete mess." Dorian rubbed soothing circles on her back. "All of us have been, but he asked me to speak with you."

"We determined the Commander's role in all of this," Leliana explained before she had the chance to ask.

Evelyn shook her head. "He could be —"

"He isn't," Leliana interjected, finishing the unspoken accusation. "There is no doubt to his innocence."

In her absence, she had forgotten how helpful the Spymaster's unnatural ability to seemingly mind read could be. She appreciated the talent now, and how convenient it was to have Leliana around since articulating coherent sentences currently escaped her.

"What?" Dorian gaped, pulling back from their embrace and meeting her eyes. "Ev, you can't possibly think..."

"She did think it. Thought he was a traitor, that he betrayed her. Still thinks so, in fact." Leliana interrupted. "I deciphered your message in its entirety —your encryption was quite clever— and began an investigation of my own. When I showed your letter to the inner circle, I intentionally left out that your use of his title named him as the perpetrator except to a select few." Nightingale's blue eyes locked with her own. "The Commander is no traitor." Gripping Evelyn's shoulder, the Spymaster provided a quick squeeze before returning both hands behind her back.

Dorian wiped away the tears on Evie's cheeks. "Leliana partnered with Bull and the Chargers, using their band of spies to keep things hush-hush. Naturally, she also requested my help. And, of course, because my skills are highly sought," he waved to himself as if the gesture proved his words, "Cullen had asked for assistance earlier as well."

Ignoring Dorian's self-praise, she redirected back to the important portion of the conversation. "You've evidence that clears the Commander's name, then?" Using his title was deliberate, after all she'd been through, she couldn't truly dare hope to make the situation any more personal. But a wave of relief washed over her, the first welcome feeling since she'd locked herself in her quarters.

Lips downturned, Leliana shook her head. "Unfortunately, there is no evidence."

She snapped, voice harsher than intended. "How do you prove a man's innocence with no evidence?" The situation was the same convoluted trap she'd found herself in from the beginning. There wasn't anything to confirm one way or the other, there hadn't been. It was foolish to believe that even the Spymaster could come up with proof.

"Inquisitor, information is valuable. Extracting it is an art. One which requires a particular," she paced, posture straight, exuding confidence, and paused, as if determining the correct word, "meticulousness and a careful eye for dishonesty. Between what I uncovered from the Lieutenant coupled with what my scouts told me, I am confident we discovered the truth. I'd wager on it." Pride sparkled in her eyes mixed with a flicker of sick pleasure. "The perpetrators didn't leave a paper trail. They were very thorough, which is why they _almost_ succeeded."

Eyes narrowed, she gritted her teeth. "If he is innocent, then why did you not reveal this information before I nearly carried out his death sentence?"

"Because," Leliana explained, "you sentenced him for taking Samson's life, not the alleged treachery. They were two separate matters. Although, there was a plan in place for that."

Evie stared, half offended at the disobeyed order and simultaneously pleased Lel knew she would never have wanted to condemn Cullen on uncertainties. Unfortunately, the conflicting emotions only added to her dismay, compounding her confusion. "I don't know what's real or not anymore." She gasped, hugging Dorian tighter and rocked back and forth to self soothe. "They messed with my mind. The drugs, the travel, the visions…" It took a moment to realize she'd been speaking. Her voice trembled and broke, sounding foreign to her own ears. "Was any of it true? Did he ever love me?"

"Which is why Dorian is present. He can help you discern the truth. Were it all an act, the Commander would not have been able to convince me and everyone else. You will see, he is no traitor and is dedicated to our cause. And you."

Dorian cupped her cheeks with the palms of his hands, waiting for her nod of permission before using his magic. "Come, my dear." Despite her hesitation, she shook her head as the decor of her quarters vanished before her eyes.

Whereas the Fade was shrouded in green, this space was an iridescent white, as though they were two drawn characters on a blank canvas, standing in sheer nothingness.

"Where are we?" Evelyn asked, hesitant to take any steps forward in an unknown and otherwise empty area. She'd learned never to assume her safety —even with Dorian— and wondered briefly if the cautiousness was good or merely sad.

Dorian chuckled. "A space conjured from my mind. We are about to embark down memory lane. My memories, or the pertinent ones at any rate." He maneuvered his hands in small circles, a yellow aura illuminating them. With a wave, he cast an orb of magic into the air. It expanded, growing from the size of a child's ball to the size of a doorway large enough she could walk through.

Inhaling deeply, she trudged forward.

Evelyn sat in a chair, not recalling how she arrived in Skyhold's library. In the alcove Dorian had claimed as his own, soft candlelight lit the pages as her eyes focused on the book's text. Words in Tevine jumbled as she tried to discern their meaning with her limited linguistic skills. Glancing up from the page, she tilted her head to the side, brow furrowed as she rubbed her chin. Where had Dorian gone?

The area was quiet, only the occasional turn of a page heard amidst the silence and regular heavy footfalls, presumably Cullen's guards, passing through the rotunda below. The Commander paced with his arms behind his back in front of her.

Cullen's words were insistent. "It is an urgent matter, and I expect you to treat it as such," he said, his voice low but still ringing with the all too familiar inflection of command.

The oddity of the situation struck her. Cullen spoke to her directly although she couldn't recall this conversation. Then again, her mind had been a victim to several tricks. As she opened her mouth to question, Dorian's voice came out instead.

"It is neither urgent nor cause for concern." As if she had no control over her actions, her hand waved off his worry. "You need to relax. Find a hobby, Commander.

Of course, she reminded herself. This was one of Dorian's memories. Clearly, she was experiencing things as Dorian remembered them, making her nothing more than a spectator.

"These thoughts won't leave me. I cannot simply forget about the danger she puts herself in." Cullen halted, rubbing his forehead. "I fear for her safety every time she leaves!"

"You chronically fret, that is not news." She turned the page in the book, never lifting her gaze. "But she has me for battle support. If I may say so, she couldn't get any better."

"That fact aside," Cullen said dryly, "my worry worsens. My feelings interfere with my duties. To even see her, I-," He averted his eyes, and she caught the tinge of pink creeping into his cheeks. "She's more than a little distracting."

The book thudded, echoing within their little corner when she closed it with a flourish. Evelyn's full attention focused on Cullen. "Maker, you're in love with her, aren't you?"

Hand raised, Cullen massaged his neck. "I—Yes," he declared with a resigned sigh, allowing his hands to fall to his sides.

"And she doesn't know, does she?" Evelyn asked in a singsonging tone —though Dorian's voice still resounded instead of her own.

"No," Cullen muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not at all."

"So why not tell her? See how she feels about you." Setting the book on a nearby table, Evelyn stood, confident steps closing the distance. "There are only so many things that could go wrong."

Cullen chuckled as if Dorian asked an asinine question. "She's the Inquisitor. We're at war…" A frown plastered on his features and his voice dropped to a whisper. "It is inappropriate, I can't… "

"You can. It is possible if you let it be," she said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

The scene before her faded to black as Dorian shrunk it down to its original size, replacing the yellow orb with orange and sent it to his left.

"My dear, were it all an act, he wouldn't have been concerned about your positions or even entertained the idea of a relationship to begin with." Dorian gestured to the portal doorway. "Are you ready for the next?"

"Wait," she asked, "what are the various colors? The last one was yellow."

"They merely signify a different memory, so I ensure you aren't watching the same ones." A light push to her back prompted her forward.

Curious regarding what to expect, cautious steps led her closer as the magical orb swirled and expanded placing her in Dorian's role in another one of his memories.

Various blooms of Skyhold's flowers decorated the garden, giving the space much-needed color and displaying the warmer weather that arrived with the new season. The chess game was going well for Dorian. Though, it wouldn't last long. Knowing Cullen's technique, he had yet to implement his signature strategic plan to win the match.

"I'll not kiss and tell, Dorian." Cullen shook his head, moving his knight to capture Dorian's rook.

She tsked him. "In declaring that you won't, that statement both confirms the kiss and means you did, in fact, inadvertently tell."

"For someone of such sharp wit, your continual losses at chess are astounding," Cullen muttered. With a nervous chuckle, he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. "I need a favor."

"A favor you say." Dorian's brows raised. "Pray tell, what is it you ask of me?"

"The Inquisition will be attending the Winter Palace soon. I require instruction. To uh," Cullen's cheeks flushed, and he massaged his neck. "-dance." His gaze met hers. At seeing her amusement, he was quick to explain. "Templars never attended balls."

"I will gladly help whip you into shape for the event." She smirked and captured Cullen's bishop, taking advantage of the distraction the topic of conversation provided. With a laugh, she couldn't help but tease. "And you thought training the recruits was a challenge. I, however, plan to perform a miracle teaching the unteachable."

Cullen sighed. "Disregard, I should have known better than to ask." He rolled his eyes and moved his pawn forward.

"Very well, when your lady is swept across the dance floor in the arms of another man who put in the effort, I'll remind you of this moment." Acting as Dorian, Evelyn stroked her mustache. "And there _will_ be other men who ask."

Cullen threw his hands up in mock surrender. "All right. All right. When do we start?"

"I knew you would make the right choice." He smiled before adding an edge to his voice. "We begin, immediately. No doubt, you will thank me later. Oh and Commander," with a wave he made a sweeping motion over the board, "checkmate!"

Evelyn returned to the empty white space. Her lips quirked in fondness, remembering her surprise at Cullen asking her to dance on the balcony. In truth, she'd been delighted, didn't even know he could. Never would she have guessed he had learned strictly for her benefit. Refusing to perform a frumpy Orlesian number or Ferelden's finest steps certainly would not have hindered their relationship. It was an attempt to do something nice, not a requirement to maintain a betrayal. No one would deliberately look like a fool —Cullen's words, not hers.

Then again, people in love did that sort of thing and if that was the objective: to prove he was a man in love, then he successfully tricked everyone. Clenching her fists at her sides, Dorian took her by the arm. So enveloped in her own thoughts, she didn't even see him prepare the next memory.

"There's more," Dorian explained.

A silent exchange passed between them as she met Dorian's brown eyes. She nodded, ready and almost eager to see the next. To gain clarity and absolute confidence in the truth would be a welcome gift. Evelyn moved forward, entering the next without a word.

Light streamed through Cullen's office windows bathing the normally shadowed space in sunlight. Cullen balanced himself against the desk supporting his weight against both hands, head down, staring, waiting for a response as he tapped a finger against the surface. An embellished box with elegant designs rested in the middle amidst the missives.

Evelyn, acting as Dorian, sat in the chair opposite him. In her hands, she held up a silver ring, admiring the gleam as the light reflected off the diamond and two rubies. "It's perfect. Fit for an incomparable woman," Dorian's voice commented. "When do you plan to ask?"

Cullen released a breath as his shoulders visibly relaxed. "Soon. After the war is over, most likely. I pray she accepts."

"For what it's worth," Evelyn said, setting the ring on the desk, "she would be a fool not to."

Just as he had before, Dorian minimized the memory, his magic aglow with a purple hue and replaced the previous orb with a newly conjured one. He turned towards Evelyn. "Were this preposterous fabrication of treachery true, he never would have shown me nor cared about what I thought. Did you see the relief at my approvalImagine how worried he would be for yours! Had he planned your demise, it wouldn't make any sense."

Evelyn said nothing and wrapped her arms around her midsection holding herself. She wanted so badly to believe, but she'd wanted that before. Even amidst everything so far seen, there was still a seed of doubt and it was enough to fester, lingering and canceling out sense.

His gaze narrowed, reading something amidst the silence. "You do not plan for the future if you do not plan on _having_ a future!" A small sigh escaped him, and he dusted imaginary debris off his robes. "Very well, perhaps this shall convince you." Dorian pointed towards the new portal, motioning for Evie to follow."

Evelyn noticed the conspicuous empty chair before their standard chess game, where the ordinarily punctual Commander would have already prepared the board, ready to issue a lecture on Dorian's tardiness.

She stopped abruptly, a quick scan of the area revealed nothing but an open chapel door. Tentative steps led her from the gazebo to the place of prayer as she peered around the doorframe, hoping not to be seen. Cullen knelt on one knee. His folded hands pressed against his forehead, elbows resting on his thigh. Candles that had been freshly replaced the day before sputtered and flickered haphazardly, little more than stubs.

"Maker," Cullen breathed, voice breaking, "I beseech you, should you deem it necessary for her to…" Exhaling shakily, he dropped his head. "If you call her to your side, I-" He shuddered. "I ask that you take me as well." Cullen paused, wiping his face. "The world would be darker without her in it. Please, don't take the light from all you have created. Ensure her safe return, and I'll never ask for another thing again. You have my word."

As the scene transitioned back to the empty space Dorian conjured, a strangled noise escaped Evelyn's throat while her eyes watered, staring at a stilled image of the memory. "I-"

"That isn't even the most touching," Dorian said, maneuvering the magical orbs as he had before. After exchanging one for another, he ushered her back in. "Last one, my dear. I promise."

The Sahrnia chantry door flew open as Cullen stormed inside. Between the snow and the copious amounts of red lyrium, the area was instantly recognizable. She never wanted Cullen to venture here for his own safety. As Inquisitor, it was the only place she would have forbidden him to go regardless of duty.

Evelyn, as Dorian, watched from afar, hurrying to close the distance and check on Cullen's welfare. She arrived in time to see him grab a wooden plank —not yet cleared after the red templar's damage— and smashed it against the stone wall sending debris flying across the room. "You weren't supposed to take her!" Cullen roared, pacing the floor. Muffled sobs released in sequence.

Throwing up his hands, Cullen regarded the statue of Andraste with a mixture of disgust and rage. "I've been faithful, I've served," speaking with fervor, he gestured wildly. "I've done everything possible to maintain and honor you and the wishes you've set forth. For years, years! I have sought comfort in your words and my faith when life offered little. Still, after everything I endured in your name, Kinloch, Kirkwall, Haven, you would-" Cullen stopped, plate clinking against the stone wall and slid to the floor. "You took her from me." He clutched his chest, exhaling in spurts, tearing at his hair. "Maker, _why_?"

Evelyn's shoulders slumped as she watched the Commander of the army built to topple them all, the embodiment of strength and unshakable faith, collapse under the weight of grief in utter defeat. Heartbreaking, it tore at her insides.

But the seed of doubt was still there despite it all. She wished she could eliminate the emotional turmoil, remove the weight that sat so heavily on her heart. Even after all of this, she couldn't shake the dread. How seemingly plausible the betrayal was, and how everything Cullen said and did since meeting her corroborated the possibility. It would be challenging enough to have him remain as acting Commander, though it would be wrong to take his position away on suspicion.

Which circled back to the strongest argument; there was no proof, either way.

The scene faded, and they were back in Evelyn's quarters. Everything was exactly as it had been, from the debris created by Dorian's forced entry to the crumpled handkerchiefs on the floor. The only difference was Leliana's conspicuous absence.

Dorian still rubbed circles on her back as she buried her face in his shoulder, his voice soothing. "It'll be all right."

She nodded. "I need to see him, Dorian." Evelyn rose, taking a moment to compose herself and used the reflection of the balcony window to check her appearance. After all, the Inquisitor could not look disheveled. She dried her eyes, wiping away the tears streaking her cheeks. "Thank you."

"Anytime, my dear. I'll leave you be." He spoke softly, reassuringly. "You know the truth now; I hope it's a comfort."

To placate him, she nodded, providing silent assurance.

After bowing with a flourish, Dorian kissed her forehead before leaving.

As Evelyn walked past her desk, sunlight seeped through the window, illuminating an unaddressed envelope with the Commander's wax seal. She tore it open hastily, withdrawing the parchment.

_My Dearest Evelyn,_

_In the event that you consent to the reversal of the Rite, and provided it is successful, I ask that you heed these words. I do not blame you for the events that transpired, as I am well aware of the mitigating circumstances and apologize for any part I may have played which resulted in your transformation. I have no regrets for the death of Samson, nor my time spent with you. My faith has sustained me when life offered little, and it is that which allows me to go to the Maker for judgment._

_All my love,_

_Cullen_

Glancing at the date, she noticed it was the same as his scheduled execution. She read it again, letting each word sink into her heart. The resulting unrest became unsettling; clearly, this had been written pre-execution. With a sigh, she leaned forward against the desk, parchment still in hand. "I know what must be done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta and I went back and forth on the scenes and how many were necessary. Initially, I went with the rule of three but felt there were some pieces missing to truly add to the entire picture. And if you're trying desperately to convince someone of the truth that someone loves her, you would, I think, show them more. Hopefully, you didn't think it was too much.
> 
> I am waiting on the remainder of the chapters for beta edits, but hang with me guys, we are almost done. How will it all end? Only a few more chapters before you find out!


	26. Chapter 26

To Cullen's surprise, only the day's missives sat unread. Though the stack was taller than the inkwell, he smiled to himself; appreciating everything, beyond the standard call of duty, Rylen had accomplished.

After drafting and signing a recommendation for a substantial merit increase on the former Knight-Captain's behalf, Cullen moved on to reviewing high priority operations. Try as he may, his thoughts continued to shift to Evelyn, his hands shaking from both withdrawal symptoms and worry.

She refused to see him and in truth, he didn't understand the extent of damage to her psyche, or to her person, the Lieutenant's chaos had caused. The entire situation was appalling, to have someone manipulate the mind… Considering Evelyn was as well as could be expected only brought a little comfort.

The text blurred, the black against the parchment swimming before his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose exacerbated the dull throb to a full pound. As the quill shook, stray droplets of ink splattered the missive until he dropped it with a huff. The liquid pooled in one spot, blotting out the date. He tugged at his hair before exhaling sharply. He would have to rewrite it entirely, costing more time and effort.

Initially, he welcomed work as a distraction, longed for it, but now wondered if he was hasty deciding to return so soon. The struggle of stopping lyrium was harder the second, voluntary, technically third, time, the symptoms more intense. If what he battled in the dungeon was bad, this was worse. Now that the adrenaline wasn't pumping through his veins during every ordeal, he had time to focus and realize how badly this hit him. After all, the symptoms never truly went away, only subsided. When the Chantry forced the Templars to take lyrium, they never meant for anyone to remove themselves from those chains. Seldom had anyone been successful once, but twice? Maker, what had he been thinking?

Well for starters, he thought it would be worth it. That lyrium would grant the abilities he sorely needed to ensure Samson paid, which he did. And Cullen would do everything exactly as he had, even though he didn't know it at the time, if it meant Evie's safe return and that they would be together.

But would they, be together? A number of questions plagued him as he struggled with the lack of answers. How would she react when he explained retaking lyrium? What about when he informed her everything that she endured was indirectly because of him? Would she understand or see him as the traitor they tried to make him out to be, the monster he currently felt like? The last he checked, it wasn't the road to the Maker that was paved with good intentions.

Hours passed as he immersed himself in work. Or tried to. He found the stack of missives not nearly as comforting as he had hoped. Regaining some semblance of normalcy in duty proved more challenging and the ability to focus on directives, issuing relocation instructions, as well as sending and receiving ravens to their designated areas, seemed a colossal chore.

Cullen didn't look up when the visitor entered. The thud of the door against the stone was his only indication of another's presence. Assuming it was a scout sent to bring more reports, he muttered under his breath, "I'm expecting someone."

"Cullen," Evelyn said, voice trembling.

He stilled. The name, not the title, Cullen noticed. Spoken in her melodic, normal voice. The same one he missed so completely during her absence, then reappearance. Looking up, he saw her standing in the doorway, sunlight streaming behind her and gave her almost an almost otherworldly glow. Fearing a trick of the mind, lyrium or perhaps both— he rubbed his eyes, positive she wouldn't be there when he reopened them.

But she was.

He forced himself to stay in place, to ignore the sudden aching desire to run over and lift her off her feet, pressing his lips to hers. With her state of mind in question, he erred on the side of caution. Fighting every impulse, he remained seated.

Then a thought occurred to him, one that hadn't before: it was more than possible that their relationship would not endure this. Silently, Cullen reminded himself of everything they had endured: the abduction, his frantic search, everything —it was all too much for even a love like theirs. He hung his head, chiding himself for foolishly expecting things to return to normal. Their relationship before felt like a fairy story, but this was no such tale.

She walked forward, slowly closing the distance between them. With parchment clutched in her fist, her shoulders slumped and she exhaled. "Forgive me," Evelyn whispered as their eyes locked.

What in the Maker's name did she have to be sorry for? None of this had been her fault. It was all his men in a revenge plot by jealous people he once hailed as brothers from the Order. Everything that happened since had been because of his delegations or past decisions. "Forgive you." He stated, dumbstruck. Confusion caused an inadvertent increase in the volume of his voice.

She winced at his tone and Cullen cringed, fearing he added to her discomfort.

Mouth agape, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'll go." Evelyn fidgeted with the letter, smoothing the wrinkles out against her thigh before turning away.

"No!" Cullen ordered, growling internally at himself for still using his Commander tone. Softening his voice, he insisted, "Please stay." Swift steps carried him to the other side of his desk as he closed the distance before thinking better of it and halted. She wanted to leave, he should let her, no matter how badly it would break his heart. Perhaps too much had happened. Picking up where they left off and resuming their lives as they once had was indeed a fool's wish.

Eyes downcast, Evelyn halted in place. "You are no traitor. You deserved better, the benefit of doubt, at least."

He feared she had given credence to the words of a madman. Blood boiling, he clenched his fists. Their enemies, his enemies, had pieced together a compelling argument, and her apology proved the belief of those lies, even if only briefly. "I have always endeavored to be worthy of you." A true statement and one meant wholeheartedly.

Evelyn turned to face him, tears falling down her cheeks. "I know," she breathed.

Compelled to do something, he reached out to touch her arm before withdrawing. His chest ached. There was a bridge between them, manmade but strong. A question rested at the forefront of his mind.

He debated with himself, curious as to the appropriateness and validity of the inquiry. "What convinced you of the truth?"

"Your letter."

Eyes widening, he hadn't realized he'd spoken. His brow furrowed, and he rubbed the stubble on his face.

"When you wrote this," she held out the parchment, "I had sentenced you to die. Most traitors would gloat over their success, perhaps adding a final slur or insult. Praise their accomplishments in the destruction as they'd planned. Or countless other things. But none of that is here. With an execution scheduled, you had no reason to lie. There was no benefit by pretending to love me."

"Death makes all men honest." Speaking of honesty, in the interests of full disclosure: how would he go about explaining everything she endured directly resulted from his own actions? Moreso, how would he tell her about resuming lyrium and the withdrawal symptoms? Was it possible to cross the aforementioned bridge together or had too much damage been done?

"But not you. Though we've disagreed on matters, you've always been honest. Even when it proved the unpopular opinion." She took a step forward before looking to the floor. Her cheeks turning pink. "I should have known better. I'm sorry."

Unable to hear an apology from the victim, or in her case, the survivor, he stuck his hand in the air, silencing her, "Don't. I'm not angry with you."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Evelyn spat, fidgeting with the parchment. "I almost, I nearly…" Her tone increased. "You were going to be executed!"

The time to disclose the full truth was now or never. If their relationship were to end because of this, it would be best for all involved to be done with it. "You suffered," His nose scrunched, and he snarled. " _You_ suffered because of me." He sighed, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword. "As far as the sentencing, you were not yourself." Cullen shifted his weight. "I know that."

"I don't understand," Evelyn whispered.

"I'm the reason all of this happened." Rubbing his forehead, he shook his head. "We need to have a lengthy conversation." The words hung between them, making the awkward silence almost deafening. If they could not endure this, the enemy would have won and all of Dorian's efforts would have been for naught. The men responsible wanted to break him, used her to do it, and could still succeed.

His heart ached, hurt washing over him in waves, a stone of uncertainty settling heavily in his stomach.

"Cullen." If the use of his name was meant to reassure him, it had not. "They changed me."

A while ago, he remembered confessing his time in Kinloch to her, how long it had taken him to recover. He could hardly be upset for her requiring certainty of his innocence and time to cope, especially when he knew firsthand how the brink of reality and fiction so often still blurred his dreams.

"There are so many things I don't know. I'd appreciate, no I _need_ an explanation."

With her words, a glimmer of hope sparked within his chest. She was willing to listen. He exhaled sharply in relief, releasing the tension in his shoulders. "How are you not angry? I'm enraged, confused, exhausted... relieved." Cullen massaged the back of his neck.

"I am." Evie clenched her fists at her sides before wiping a stray tear away. "But not towards you."

After everything he had been tested with as of late, he'd have wagered that her showing any emotion at all would have been a welcome comfort, but standing idle watching her cry ate at him.

Despite his attempts at restraint, he couldn't maintain the facade. All thoughts were laid bare shown by his facial expressions no longer concealed by the guise of the Commander. He needed to comfort her, longed to show her he was no demon to be feared. She was giving him the benefit of doubt and he would not squander that.

With one stride, Cullen embraced her as though his life depended on it. Fingers weaved within her hair, noting its silky texture and shine. She melted into his arms as he cradled her head, mentally thanking the Maker that she was safe. As it was, he held Thedas' beauty within his hands. He'd known what it was to believe he would have to go on without her, how dim and dreary the outlook on his life turned, darker than the days at Kinloch or Kirkwall.

Cullen kissed her like a desperate man on borrowed time, needy and starving. But he regained his wits, taking a step back and distancing himself. Once Evelyn knew, and realized the full extent of why things happened, would she still want this, want him? Better question, was he taking advantage of her now? Using the situation and horrible circumstances to give himself one last sweet memory before the illusion shattered?

He frowned, worry overwhelming him. "There are things we must discuss, in depth. But only when you are ready." A knot settled in his chest.

"Yes," she bit her bottom lip, "we need to talk."

Such a simple sentence with massive implications.

Emotions ran high, but he remembered to be patient. He wanted to ensure that once she decided to be with him, she did so of her own volition, not out of guilt or because of the enthralling moment. He would wait, as long as it took, allowing her the time necessary to heal and recover, as she once did for him. Confident as long as they were together, it hardly mattered what they faced.

Cullen closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender and honey before it dissipated. Taking another breath, he opened them. His brow furrowed as he looked around. The candles illuminated the area, but it was just him, sitting alone at his desk. Sitting in front of him was the unsigned relocation request. The very one he was certain he'd penned his signature on moments before Evelyn arrived.

But had she, arrived?

His hands shook, trembling while grabbing the quill. Again, his head was filled with a painful staccato of sharp pain and beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. Squeezing his eyes closed, he breathed deeply. Back in the tower during his first lengthy and forced withdrawal from lyrium, all he had to do was close his eyes and when he opened them, the demons were gone. Any illusions were gone, albeit temporarily. But this time had been different and despite him reopening his eyes, the vision hadn't dissipated.

Heart sinking to his stomach, he swallowed thickly. The entire thing was a trick of the mind. Of course it was, he should have known better.

The door thudded. Pinching his brow, he muttered under his breath. "I'm expecting the Inquisitor."

But was he? In truth, he did not know if she would come see him or not. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

"Commander," Evelyn said.

He stilled. His title, not his name. Cullen's chest constricted. Tension weighted the room by one word. A forceful pinch to his thigh proved reality this time. Evelyn stood in front of him. Her mannerisms in stark contrast to that of the illusion. Tugging at the edge of her tunic, her fingers fidgeted with the fabric. She appeared professional, put together, despite her tinted cheeks that suggested otherwise. The puffiness in her face revealed she'd been crying, and it trailed to her lips —which were pressed into a hard line.

"We should speak." Cullen gestured to the chair opposite the desk.

She nodded, lips curving into a frown. Though she didn't go to sit. Opening her mouth, no words came before closing it.

He braced himself, trying to prepare. Clearly, whatever she had to say, it wasn't good.

"I loved you."

Past tense. The throb in his head banged like a drum, a counter beat to his heart. No doubt, she was about to do as he feared. His eyes threatened tears, but he forced them back. He replaced the concerned lover with the Commander persona to endure. Or at least, he hoped it possible.

Her voice was soft, understanding. And somehow, that made him feel worse. She could have been cruel, even mean, and after everything she'd been through, he couldn't have blamed her if she had been.

"I know how I felt about you," she said, visibly swallowing, "I want to believe all could be as it was and none of it is true. But," she paused, looking down at her knotted fingers and taking a deep, shuddering breath. "There is doubt, and until-" She broke herself off, almost choking on the word. "If—"

He stilled, listening as her gaze met his. Sympathy reflected from her. It was no easier for her than it was for him; and though he didn't want to believe it, he understood it.

Looking towards the floor, she fidgeted with her hands. "I'm not the woman you love any more." Her tone begged him to understand. "She's gone."

More than anything, he wanted to interject that she didn't get to tell him he couldn't love her. But his mouth closed, teeth clacking before he could muster a word. She couldn't be gone, she was standing in front of him. He'd fought, as much as possible, anyone who would dare to bring her back. She couldn't simply be gone.

"I _need_ time to reflect, to sort things out." Evelyn sighed, "And I need to do it alone."

Cullen stared, quiet. It was all he could do. The throb in his head overpowered by the ache of his shattering heart.

"Perhaps one day, we can try to be friends." A whisper, as if the tone of her voice would lessen the blow if delivered softly.

She may as well have run him through with his own sword. The world slowed, and he inhaled deeply, running his tongue along the inside of his teeth. He nodded curtly before standing. Forcing his steps, he made it to the eastern door. Without speaking a word, he allowed himself a look behind him. Her head was low and shoulders hunched, and even in the flickering candlelight, he couldn't help noticing how pretty she was. It pierced through him, salting the wound.

Pushing the door open, he left his office and her standing within.


	27. Chapter 27

Evelyn had hurt Cullen. At least that much was true. But was it true? Sad that she couldn't know. The hole in her heart was painful but just as much as the chaos running rampant within her head.

She loved him, or thought so, still. But her thoughts were wrong, everything a tangle of ifs and should haves, could haves, and don'ts. If only there wasn't this gap between them. A chasm really, if she was honest about what it now was. How was she supposed to go back and pretend like everything hadn't happened? Just because she wanted it, or thought she did, didn't make it what was best.

How would she figure that out as well? Seeing him in war council, across the courtyard, his mere presence would stir up her anxieties and confusion. Though, it wasn't his fault. Or maybe it was, she didn't even know that either!

Firing him was an option. Not a good one, of course, but an option. However, what kind of leader would she be if she dishonored him with no proof? At least while tranquil, she had an excuse for her actions. It legitimately wasn't her as herself.

Who was Evelyn Trevelyan underneath the weight of title?

She simply couldn't answer.

Evelyn longed for solitude and arrived at her quarters within mere minutes. In the time she had spoken with Cullen, the door Dorian knocked off the hinges had been replaced. The room tidied and as if none of it ever happened. She was jealous of a room and knew it preposterous. Envious that it could erase all within the walls and appear fresh, new, somehow untouched by the evils of the word. Green, that it knew nothing of fear, pain, death. Then again, why would it? It was just a room.

Evelyn sat on the bed, running her fingers along the intricate design. How she wished things were as simple as laundering linens or cleaning up debris. She laid back with a huff, trying to stop the clamoring. The push and pull of memories, manipulated beyond recognition, made her mind a whirlpool of grief. Cullen's voice, sometimes deep and maniacal with the inflection of command and other times, soft, sweet, and reassuring didn't help straighten out the confusion. Her memories twisted and turned, showing different aspects of both what she believed, could have believed, should now believe…

It was too much; the information loomed over her like Corypheus' shadow and just as horrifying.

She screamed into the pillow, in pain, in sorrow, in anger, she didn't even know. And cried tears of relief, joy, sadness. Who could say? Certainly not her.

Sitting up, she held the pillow to her chest, rocking to self soothe. Muttering phrases which would have been meaningful only to a mad woman, she continued the motion, hoping it would provide some sense of peace.

It did not.

Perhaps it was hours or mere minutes, she couldn't say. But for a while, she did nothing else. Shaking her head, she realized wallowing in self-pity wouldn't do her any favors. After everything she endured, it was not the time to cower. No, it was time to be strategic, smart, careful. To relish the one thing she loved with absolute certainty: her job as Inquisitor.

She helped people, fought for them, saved their lives! That was worth a brief stint of tranquility and the resulting terrible decisions. They would forgive her for it, right? Then again, her poor choices are also what caused her to be kidnapped. Maker, that was a terrible comparison. And certainly, wasn't making her feel better.

Standing abruptly, she grabbed onto the bed rail for balance. The dizziness from moving too quickly nearly caused her to plop back down on the bed. Maneuvering to the desk at a slower pace, she sat in her chair. The familiarity provided a sense of normalcy.

Until she saw the unaddressed envelope with the Commander's seal, broken from her earlier haste. Closing her eyes, she sighed, the emptiness in her heart hit her with force. Chest constricting, she physically ached. With a huff, she ran her fingers through her hair, burying the envelope in the top drawer. "Out of sight, out of mind."

Redirecting her attention to a stack of missives that needed addressed, her pain dulled, if only momentarily, at seeing several reports from Rylen, instead of _him._ Thoroughly reviewing the requests, she signed off on most, saving questions regarding others. They were simple troop relocations from the Arbor Wilds, nothing too concerning. However, all high priority items were missing. Anything about ongoing war table operations or any updates from soldiers in the field were nowhere to be seen. An issue that would require address via war council, one she now had no choice but to call. So much for thinking it could be delayed.

Hours passed as she filtered through the stacks of paperwork from all three advisors. She declined seven marriage proposals, postponed arrivals of dignitaries, and read all of Leliana's reports on recent endeavors. Tedious work, but she welcomed the opportunity to do her duty and try to do right by her people. Once complete, she was satisfied with her ability to still do her job. If only she could continue and maintain that focus, everything would be fine. So she told herself. True or not, only time would tell.

Despite her reluctance and better judgment not to leave her bed, she awoke anyway. Forcing herself to undergo some much-needed self-care. After peeking out the door and leaving a message for the runner, she indulged in a long overdue bath. Steaming, and so hot it turned her skin red, the water eased her aches and pains. Such a simple task provided relief physically and metaphorically cleansing her body and soul.

She dressed, simple but elegant in cotton trousers and a blue tunic embellished with embroidered silver. During her routine, she also took care to apply rouge. Powdering her face, she then added black kohl around the eyes with dark red carmine on the lips. Combing her hair until it was dry, she twisted it into a small braid. Nimble fingers weaving it into place before securing it. Her mother had always said that if one looked good, one felt good, and she'd never needed to feel more confident and normal than today. But her reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable, equal to that of a stranger. Her skin was pale from her lack of exposure to the elements. Between the covered cart and remaining indoors, she should have suspected as much. Eyes sunken, her fingertips grazed the circles underneath that weren't concealed as they should have been. "I don't even know who that person is." She whispered, again feeling out of place.

Deciding against the braid, she let her hair fall loosely, naturally curling at the ends around her shoulders. Using her fingers, she parted it to the side. Smiling to herself. "Much better." She said to no one. Then wondered if she really had lost her mind. But at least, she was confident, now more closely resembling the person she used to be. "Much better," she said to the empty room. "Wait...talking to myself. Have I really lost my mind? I guess it doesn't matter."

Sitting on the sofa, she laced her boots. The heel bumping into the bag stashed underneath. She grabbed it, pulling it out and instinctively looked for the other. There should be two, she remembered, before reminding herself that Cullen's bag would never again be there.

Though she wanted desperately to trust him., there was still doubt. And to have that there, was neither fair to him or her, especially if it wasn't his fault. The hollowness in her chest bothered her, but she forced those feelings down. Breathing deeply, she reminded herself she could do her job. She was a professional and would have to act accordingly, prove she still deserved to be here, to lead —despite it all.

Upon exit, she noted the presence of the guard. Non-templar, she expected no less under the circumstances but found herself grateful. She would have to face them sooner or later, but right now, later was better. No doubt, it was Cullen's orders and the thoughtfulness made her regret their discussion. However, the warmth in her chest was replaced by terror. Shaking her head to banish the memories, the voice of the guard snapped her back to reality. "Good to see you well, Inquisitor," he greeted. She faked a smile trying to remember his name and failing. "Yes, you as well."

See, she assured herself, things will be fine if you feign normalcy. Everything will be fine. Even she didn't believe her own words, but they offered false comfort for the moment.

Remembering to maintain her breathing in calm, slow paces, she entered the Main Hall. Nobles clamored for attention, some asking questions about her recent 'circumstances' others questioning the rumor of a break up between her and the Commander. Both of which, she refused to comment on. Hurrying her steps, she pushed open the door to Josephine's office, closing it behind her with a thud. She slunk back against the wood, using her body as a barricade in case any tried to follow her.

The Ambassador wasn't present, and she wondered if she ended up being the last person to council, again. Although she was still early as she had always been. Through the hall and up the steps, she placed a hand against the War Room door hearing the chattering within. _Brace yourself, you can do this. It will all be fine._

As she entered war council, the discussions silenced. It amazed her how much seemed to stay the same while simultaneously different. Mugs were full of water and coffee from the kitchens, and nearby, a spread of various snacks were on display. Either Josephine arranged it as a 'glad to have you back' gift, or they expected this council would take hours. Somehow, she figured it was a mix of both. Paperwork was stacked in front of each advisor, standing in their standard positions opposite her. The only exception was the addition of Rylen's presence, likely there to provide support and insight on recent reports Cullen may not have been caught up on.

Greeting them, she was careful to avoid direct eye contact. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she fidgeted with her fingers before reminding herself such action was unprofessional and hinted at nervousness. Needing something, anything, to do to cover her sudden cowardice, she picked up a stack of missives from the table and skimmed over them.

What was it she was so afraid of? She was not on trial, they would not condemn her. She was their leader, the one they appointed. And they were her friends, most at any rate.

Outside of pleasantries, Leliana was first to speak. "My scouts are currently tracking down all rogue templars the Lieutenant named. It is your decision regarding what you wish to do with them."

Evelyn swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Remembering the waxy coating on the cloth that had covered her mouth, and the stench of lotus burning her nostrils. She grabbed at her neck to ensure the arm once encased around it wasn't there. Her breath quickened, and she closed her eyes.

Opening them again, she nodded curtly but met Cullen's gaze. His amber eyes pierced her, inflicting as much pain as he endured himself. Cullen appeared as rough as he had when they'd met in Haven on the battlefield. Dark circles indicated a lack of sleep, his hair disheveled, more so than he would standardly allow, and the tremor in his hands only slightly apparent despite them resting on the pommel of his sword. His lips parted as if he planned to say something but decided against it.

Completely torn, she felt compelled to embrace him, to kiss him and never let go, never allow _him_ to let go. She wanted nothing more than to rest securely in his strong arms and hear whispered promises how it would all be okay. That he would protect her, keep her safe, though she didn't need it, most of the time. But her feet remained firmly planted where she stood.

Tears threatened to form, but she refused to allow herself to break down. Pain shot from her heart to the tips of her fingers. Cullen could have been responsible, she thought, then scolded herself, there is no proof. She had been aware of what a struggle it would be to see him, but this was worse. Yes, it hurt but his mere presence was enough to throw her off kilter. Her mind waged war, and the room spun as one of her memories pushed to the forefront.

_The cool metal of the dagger pressed against Evelyn's neck. She froze, limbs rigid and stricken with fear as Cullen's free hand tangled within her hair. Grabbing a fistful, he yanked back. "I've wanted to do this for longer than I should admit."_

She reminded herself it was only an illusion and squeezed her eyes closed. Maker, there was no way she could continue working with him. She couldn't fire him, but she couldn't quit either. And Cullen had always been a man of duty. How was she supposed to go on acting like nothing mattered, like _he_ never mattered, like _they_ never mattered? Impossible. The healing process could not begin until she no longer had to see him, be around him. Until the day came when she could erase being romantically involved with him, she would suffer.

She used the table for balance before regaining her composure and standing straight, meeting the eyes of all present. "I will provide my decision next council." Ignoring the hammering of her heart, she forced a smile and carried on.

As they reviewed the reports and caught her up to speed on everything she missed, Cullen seldom spoke. Better for the both of them and she avoided eye contact for the rest of the meeting. She looked around the room, reminding herself of how untouched and clean her own quarters had been after the ordeal and remembering how jealous she'd been. Then it struck her like a bolt of lightning. There was a solution, one that had been quite literally at the back of her mind this entire time.

She could fix this.


	28. Chapter 28

Cullen didn't stay after the War Council, not that he often had. Generally, there were far more pressing matters he needed to return to his office and address. But today, he nearly ran out, trying not to draw suspicion despite his desperate need for air.

Evelyn had entered war council, and she looked perfect. Exactly as she had before tranquility, with a few minor differences given her ordeal. She was put together, composed, absolutely lovely.

It ate at him.

His heartache was exacerbated by the withdrawal symptoms. Or perhaps it was the opposite, but either way, seeing her so incredibly herself had felt like a cruel joke by the Maker at his expense.

He'd said that if she was alive, they could heal her, mind, body and soul. Now that she was there, he had no idea if there was any truth in those words but suspected there would not be any way to return her to who she was before.

_"_ _The woman you love is gone."_ Perhaps she was correct. Wanting her to be wrong didn't make it so.

The cool air chilled his hot cheeks, a refreshing sensation against his skin amidst the sweat and he was grateful for the snap back to reality. Every sting proved what he was seeing as truth, and not another illusion conjured by a brittle, lyrium addled mind.

Inhaling deeply, his pace slowed as he walked across the battlements, taking the long way to clear his pounding head. How in the Maker's name was he supposed to carry on with his duties as if nothing happened? He could not, no man in his situation would be able to.

He could leave, but the war was far from over. It wouldn't last forever though the thought failed to provide comfort. But he loved his job and lived to serve. As he looked over the ramparts, he spotted Cole down below, taking care of the infirmed outside the healer's tents. And a thought struck him.

He hurried to his office, latching every door. Leaning over his desk, he sighed wearily, contemplating the merits of his decision. A gleam of silver at the corner of the surface caught his attention, and he reached for it. Underneath a stack of yesterday's missives sat the coin he had once given to Evelyn. She must have left it behind after he stormed from his office. Holding it up, he cursed it for its foul luck. It may have kept her alive, but it certainly failed to protect her. He scolded himself more, for thinking that a simple charm would have such power. But if anything, it only granted him a renewed confidence.

It was smart, strategic. He could work effectively, not worry about Evelyn and what she meant to him. Cullen could see her, and she him, and feel nothing, resuming his life as duty bound, focusing on work alone. Mostly, if not the only motivator, was the ache in his heart, the hole where what they had used to be, would cease to exist.

It was best for the Inquisition, and for him personally. Sound in logic and practicality but best of all, possible. With Cole's help, it was possible. And that was important.

"Cole." he used his commander voice, if only to ensure the spirit could hear him.

Within seconds, the ghostly boy appeared, blue eyes piercing from underneath the brim of his hat. He took a step forward, slowly gazing around the room. "It's like the nightmares, but you're awake. Seeing her as she isn't. A different set of chains to test."

Cullen looked at him, saying nothing, pleading with only his eyes. He tried to speak but the words died in his throat. To vocalize such a request seemed equal to admitting defeat.

"You want to forget." The statement simple, but so weighted. "Yes," Cole nodded, voice soft and low, reassuring, despite answering the question that wasn't asked. "I can help you forget."

Cole sat on the bed, knees dangling. A rather childish gesture for a spirit, but Evelyn supposed he was always just a boy. His help had been invaluable, and it was often hard to remember that a portion of the Inquisition's success had hinged on a member of the inner circle who couldn't be any more than twenty.

She paced her quarters. "To confirm, I'll remember everything except that Cullen and I were together?"

"Yes." Cole stated simply. "Twisting and melding into one as you stand on the ledge. Each on one side of the other. Will you jump?"

Shaking off his cryptic statements, she continued the pertinent questions. "And it'll be gone. Everything we were, will be forgotten?" Though the thought provided comfort, it also left her with a sense of sadness. She recalled their intimate moments, their snowball fight, the chess games, everything they did together that brought her happiness.

Yet, it had also been the source of her pain. Most of the 'evidence' against Cullen had been based on their romantic interactions. She was never able to look at the situation objectively. Her personal feelings clouded her judgment. A betrayal to the Inquisition was bad, if it was true, but a personal grievance, that had hurt. After all, they were and had been friends before they became a couple. But destroying their relationship was the intention of the traitors. Perhaps wiping away everything that made her love him would place things in perspective. To know with certainty one way or the other the truth about her beloved Commander.

"Will it hurt?" She asked, finally ceasing her steps.

Responding with a simple headshake of no, he outstretched his hand to her. She accepted, taking a seat next to him. "They messed with my mind, you know. To let someone do it again, it's…"

"Hard." Cole finished. "Rebreaking makes it new."

"Yes," she exhaled shakily, "you helped bring me back. I trust you." She inhaled deeply in preparation. After receiving permission, Cole placed his cold, but gentle hands against her face.

A breeze tickled her cheeks as he delved into her thoughts. The emptiness and uncertainty faded as she replayed the memories that haunted her for the final time.

Opening her eyes, she jumped at Cole's presence. When had he arrived? It wasn't the first time the boy had some odd tendencies. "Cole," she smiled, "what are you doing here?"

"Helping." He responded, before vanishing from sight as if he simply dematerialized into nothingness.

Whatever he needed, he clearly received, or else he would not have left. After having caught up on all current affairs post war council, she would seek Cullen. Their conversation the day prior had been interrupted before they spoke as he was called away on other matters. Taking one quick glance in the mirror, she smiled, exuding confidence.

Since this morning, she decided what to do with the rogue templars responsible for her kidnapping and the slander of her Commander's name and reputation. Cullen, of all people should be the first to know. With her typical confident stride, she emerged from her quarters, greeting the nobility crowding the main hall, before venturing through the rotunda and crossing the battlement to his office door.

She thought of all the horror the actions of traitors had wrought as her fist hovered by the wood. Finally working up the nerve to knock, she rapped against the door three times. Breathing deeply, she straightened her posture; this would be a challenge, but Cullen understood, he always understood. Perhaps he would not be nearly as angry as she anticipated. He was quite upset at their brief meeting the day before.

"It's open."

She pushed open the door, only to see Cullen working fervently over his desk. A handful of runners awaiting their stack of reports to be delivered. At least, despite his ordeal, he seemed to be re-acclimating well. "Inquisitor," he greeted, standing straight as the scouts mimicked the pleasantry.

"Commander." She smiled, nodding her acknowledgment to her people. "Do you have some time?"

"Allow me a moment." He arranged the stacks and handed what could have easily been books to the messengers and sent them on their way.

She approached hesitantly. Just because he didn't seem angry, didn't mean he wasn't. Cullen was very good at hiding his displeasure under the guise of decorum. "I thought we could talk," she explained as if any of this was simple, "alone." She emphasized the word to make it clear that she did not want any interruptions by their people. If she didn't say what she had to get out right now, and ended up being sent to the corner of Thedas, the anxiety would bother her for weeks, potentially months.

"Alone, of course." Cullen shuffled some papers around, placing his quill and spare parchment in the drawer of his desk. Though she suspected he tried to hide it by forcing the drawer closed with more effort than necessary, she couldn't help noticing the hand tremor and the sweat collecting on his brow.

Cullen gestured to the door, his steps quickened as he held it open for her to pass through. They walked in stride with one another, but awkward silence loomed as they continued through two towers, and nearly across three battlements before he broke the quiet. "There was something you wished to discuss?"

She exhaled sharply. "I wanted to apologize, again. For almost having you executed." Having mentally prepared this speech on her way over, her brain was content to ignore all that practice as words failed her.

He waved her off, "You weren't yourself. I'm aware of that."

Stopping, she turned to him, "but it doesn't excuse anything." Running her palm down her forehead, she continued, "therefore, I was hoping to make it up to you. I know you are no traitor to the Inquisition. Leliana investigated and I trust her word, and Dorian helped as well."

Wandering over to the battlements, a familiar feeling washed over her. She enjoyed this space though she couldn't recall why. Her vision spanned across the mountains below, recalling what little she could remember of her time in captivity. "I'm sorry I ever thought otherwise."

Cullen followed two strides behind her. His amber eyes read with nothing but understanding as she had suspected they would. "What happened was appalling, to have someone manipulate your mind… It takes a strong person to walk away from that, it's good to see you well."

"I think 'well' is a stretch, but it's a start." She chuckled nervously at her own expense. "I don't remember much, to be honest. Because of the drugs, it's all a black haze more or less." Her eyes dropped and she shook her head unable to recall. "But that is only a portion of what I wished to speak to you about."

"Oh?" He sounded surprised. His eyes looking anywhere but her.

"The men who betrayed the Inquisition," her brow furrowed, still uncertain of their motivations against Cullen for doing so, "I defer to your judgment on the matter. However you see fit to handle them, you have my full support. You also suffered because of this and you should have a say in their sentencing."

Cullen rubbed the stubble on his jaw. "Hmm."

She couldn't tell if he was pleased or not by the news and the lingering unknown unsettled her. "But, before I sought you, I received a request from the soldiers. Every man under you signed a petition. Many men saw the attack against their Commander as a personal one, and they requested sanction to handle any offenders directly."

"They did?" Cullen smirked and his features softened with pride.

"They did," she confirmed. "It's a compliment of the highest order, you should be proud."

Cullen cleared his throat and rested his hands on the parapets. "It is undeserved, I fear," he sighed, "there is something I must tell you."

Her brow furrowed, "Undeserved? As I understand it, you were the one who led the efforts to find me when I was kidnapped." Though she tried to hide it, a blush crept in her cheeks, "from all the reports, you were quite determined."

"I, well, yes. You're the Inquisitor, we're at war." Cullen shifted his weight. "We couldn't lose our leader."

"Even so, it doesn't diminish your efforts. And killing Samson with your bare hands," she bit the bottom of her lip, "I know he was a friend once. I'm sorry."

Cullen sighed, "Ordinarily, his head would have been too valuable to take. But after I discovered you, in that condition…" he shook his head, "I shouldn't have but his actions were unacceptable, and he hadn't kept his word that you were safe. My sympathies lie with those he betrayed. It extends no further."

"If it's any consolation," Evelyn gritted her teeth, her words harsh, "if you hadn't killed him, I would have."

"Might I ask you something?" His tone fluctuated as if he wasn't certain he should.

"Of course." Evelyn offered him a smile, one of the few genuine ones she could remember of late.

"There is a rumor you chose tranquility, is it true?" The concern in his eyes was sweet, so uncharacteristic of the stoic Commander.

"It wasn't that simple, but yes. Samson gave me the choice: remove my arm, take red lyrium and dismantle the Inquisition from the inside or tranquility." Her face contorted into an involuntary sneer. "I could never betray my people."

"Nor could I," Cullen confessed.

"We are a dysfunctional lot, but we're family. All of us." She couldn't help but laugh at how their rag-tag bunch of friends powered the Inquisition. Trying to recover, she slapped her hand across her mouth.

"You certainly keep interesting company." Eyes twinkling with amusement, he continued "though I suppose I do as well." Cullen motioned for her to step ahead of him as they resumed walking the battlements.

He cleared his throat, "But you should know. I had to resume lyrium to impede Samson."

She tilted towards him, quietly waiting for anything additional he may wish to offer. He averted his eyes and looked away.

"Are you still taking it?" She asked, chewing on her bottom lip. How badly did resuming that wretched habit on her behalf ruin all his progress?

"Not any longer."

"And your symptoms?" How bad are they? She wanted to demand an answer but took the route Josephine would have and went with a more diplomatic approach.

The silence weighed the area like a thick fog.

Cullen's eyes finally met hers. "Worse than before." He looked away, as if he expected a scolding or perhaps to hide his shame.

The statement was a loaded one, meaning several horrendous nightmares that he would have to endure and on her account. She had noticed indications in War Council, and again in his office but hadn't wanted to press, assuming he would inform her as he had before. Guilt sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach followed by concern upon confirmation.

A gentle touch to his bracer was meant to provide reassurance. "You're doing the right thing but whatever you decide, you have my support." She wanted to show him, truly what all his sacrifices had meant. So, she made it personal, using his name without the title for the first time. "Cullen, please let me help."


	29. Chapter 29

The seasons changed, warmer weather filtered through the gazebo and made Skyhold, though predominantly cold, a slight bit warmer than normal. Fruits were finally ripe for picking and the lavender flowers provided a sweet aroma that lingered in the air.

Dorian sat across from Leliana, staring down at their game of chess. The wicked woman was sly, having already beaten him three times today while they waited for the former lovebirds to arrive. Not that they knew, of course, but even so.

Cullen would be arriving shortly for their afternoon chess match. And Dorian, being the great friend that he was, would spare him the humiliation of the loss.

He had also requested Evelyn's presence to talk to her about an important matter. Meanwhile, the game went on. The Spymaster relished her winnings and even gloated as they discussed the details of the romance cover up.

"Cassandra tells me that Ev's Seeker training is going well."

"Good, I had wondered how it would work out since Cole is a spirit of compassion and not faith." Dorian smiled. "It still amazes me," he said, stroking his mustache, "they were so crippled by their loss of one another, they both, with no influence from the other, decided that the best way to move forward was to erase their romantic relationship from their thoughts."

Leliana quirked an eyebrow, "It did create a bit more work, but that is all settled now."

The woman did have her ways of speaking cryptically. "All of their letters?"

"Expertly altered or destroyed." She said simply as if that explained the process in detail.

"And every last traitor?" As far as Dorian was concerned, he would have loved the honor of quashing them like the bugs they were, but Evie deferred to Cullen, who honored the petition and let the loyal soldiers have their way with them. From most of what he had heard, including the piercing screams ringing about Skyhold in the night, it was rather unpleasant.

With a wink, she confirmed, "taken care off." She took his rook with her knight and Dorian cursed internally.

"You better be prepared, they are on their way." Leliana began to reset the board.

Looking over his shoulder and seeing nothing, he whispered, "how could you possibly know that?"

She tilted her head, a half smile playing at her lips, "why don't you?"

Who answers a question with a question? The woman could be so infuriating. "How fares the Commander with his symptoms?"

"Improving every day. Which is why," her lips pressed into a hard line, "it is now time."

Dorian rolled his eyes at her 'infinite' wisdom. "Tell me, how did you get the public to cooperate with it once their memories were erased? Gossips could easily let the cat out of the bag."

"It has long since been rumored of a relationship there, nothing has changed in that regard." Leliana's eyes nearly twinkled, "But, a false rumor here, a few misleading letters there, and the right whispers to the right ears make nearly anything appear as truth."

Dorian nodded. "They have always maintained professionalism in public."

"Indeed," Leliana added, "the most challenging concern was their display at the Winter Palace, but the Inquisitor had a number of interested parties she danced with. After an evening of fending off several suitors, a dance with the Commander is hardly an outstanding topic."

Dorian remained skeptical, "but they won't remember doing that. It could get back to them."

"It could," she explained, "but it won't. Varric is quite good at storytelling if you recall. He influences others to embrace their creativity. For a long time, there have been written works of fiction being passed around Thedas penned by various authors. A little encouragement prompted more. Some detail a torrid affair between the Inquisitor and Blackwall, some imagine her with Bull as a better fit."

Dorian gasped, slightly offended that the lout would be romantically involved with anyone other than himself and have it be deemed a 'better fit'.

"Others detail the Commander in a relationship with Celene, of all people." The Spymaster tucked an imaginary stray hair into her hood. "And of course, the actual love story did inspire some true accounts. But until the relationship is once again real for them, it would be a reasonable assumption any references made are to those ridiculous admirer stories." Leliana smiled wickedly, "You should read some, there really is some fantastical drivel I think you'd appreciate."

"And the ring he had you procure?" Dorian tsked her playfully, admiring her skill to think of nearly everything. "you wouldn't have sold that to the highest bidder, would you?"

Placing a hand to her chest, she feigned offense. "Me?" She shook her head, "set aside in case it is ever needed." Once the board was reset, Leliana stood and departed, her footsteps as silent as the wind.

Cullen and Evelyn turned the path after the Spymaster had long since disappeared. The Commander seemed well despite his struggles, the dark circles under his eyes had subsided, the tremors less frequent, and the headaches no longer as intense as what they had been; largely due to Evelyn's help. The two spoke with familiarity, a closeness Dorian had not seen for many many months. If he was being honest, before Evelyn's kidnapping. The scene warmed the heart.

"Oh good, you're both here!' He stood, striding towards them. "I fear that I will not be able to make our match today, Commander." Dorian kissed both of Evelyn's cheeks in greeting. "Evie, my darling, you look lovely."

"You too, Dorian."

"Lovely," he questioned, "I would have chosen suave, debonair, handsome…"

"I assume," Cullen said, "since you are canceling our match, you must have a good reason."

Her gaze passed between him and Cullen. "Did you wish to speak privately?"

Dorian waved off her concern. Always putting others before herself, somethings, memory wipe or not, would never change. "No, this saves me from having to tell you both separately. And yes, dear Commander, I do have a good reason." Dusting off his robes, he continued, "I told you after the defeat of Corypheus, I would be returning home. I shall take my leave today."

Evelyn's shoulders hunched, and she frowned, "so soon?"

"Ah yes, I'm afraid so. It is time." He bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. Performing a full bow, he encompassed her hands within his. "It has been a pleasure. We will talk soon, of that, I promise."

Turning his attention to Cullen, he outstretched a hand which Dorian accepted. "It won't be the same without you."

"Well," he straightened his posture, "that's enough of this goodbye nonsense."

Cullen asked, "You're certain you don't have time for one more match before you depart?"

Dorian shot them both a pointed look. "Not this time, but the game is just beginning, my friend." Cullen quirked his eyebrow, but Dorian bid them both farewell without explanation. Still within earshot, he heard Cullen as he was walking away.

"I should return to my duties as well, unless you, would care for a game?"

Taking a position behind one of the taller bloomed plants, Dorian peered around the corner in time to hear her response and see her smile despite the distance. "Why not? The board is prepared, Commander."

Dorian smiled to himself, still watching as Cullen gestured to the seat and pulled out the chair for Evelyn. Pride flourished in his chest. A sensation brushed against his arm and he jumped. "Oh Cole, you gave me quite the start!"

The boy placed a hand on Dorian's shoulder. "She's bright again, like the sun." His head tilted to the side. "Once more safe and solid, protecting, proud."

Ignoring the comments he couldn't make sense of, Dorian diverted the conversation. "You know, tell me something," he tried to keep his voice low, so the two didn't overhear, "if Seekers are immune to mind control, how were you successful?"

"It isn't the same as making them forget," Cole shrugged and pointed towards Cullen and Evelyn, "it needed to be happy."

"It may not be a happy ending, per se, but it is a hopeful one." With a chuckle, Dorian slapped Cole playfully on the back. "No one will thank me, whatever happens. No one will thank you, either. They won't remember to, you know that, yes?"

"It doesn't matter that they won't remember." Cole smiled, "What matters is we helped."

**************THE END**************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, you loved it. I rewrote this ending at least half a dozen times. The first few were entirely too fluffy, the last were not happy endings. I think this way it gives it a bit of realism for possibilities, and really, in life, what more can you ask for?  
> I hope it didn't disappoint.  
> Leave me your thoughts and questions, if you have any.


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